


Blush: A Love Story

by summerofspock



Series: Love Story [2]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Comfort No Hurt, Dating, F/M, Fluff, Misunderstandings, Romance, Wooing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-03
Updated: 2019-07-08
Packaged: 2020-02-16 18:01:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 48,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18696529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/summerofspock/pseuds/summerofspock
Summary: A continuation of my story Blush - in which Jaime has a thing for strong women, Brienne is a little confused, and they're on their way to falling in love.Originally a series, but compiled here to make my life easier as the story continues.





	1. Cactus

**Author's Note:**

> a story spurred by the absolute heartbreak of season 8. im wrapping myself in sweetness and never leaving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blush from Jaime's POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SerenityAlways commented asking for a companion piece from Jaime's POV so here it is  
> this one is a bit more sexy than the last one since jaime's brain is DEFINITELY dirtier than Brienne's
> 
> also HiHereAmI commented "I gotta admit, #BottomWannabe Jaime who wants Brienne to step on him is a freaking mood.  
> and Malta commented "Jaime "I'd love if you'd d-e-s-t-r-o-y me, please" Lannister"  
> and so I blame them for a lot of the kinky content :)

Jaime dismissed his assistant for the day and leaned back in his chair, hand coming to the bridge of his nose to scrub away the strain behind his eyes. It had been a long day. A long week. Clients complaining about drafts they’d already approved, Cersei trying to get him to agree to babysitting her kids while she went on a cruise and his father being...well, being as much of an asshole as he always was.

His desk phone started ringing. It was 5 o’clock so he considered not answering it, but eventually the desire to make the noise stop won out over any trepidation about who was on the other line.

“Jaime Lannister,” he answered curtly by way of greeting. Maybe being rude would get him out of the conversation as fast as possible.

“Oof, all business are we?”

Jaime immediately relaxed when he realized it was only his brother. “Tyrion—what can I do for you?”

“I’ve had a spectacularly terrible day and would love to have my brother take me out for drinks so we can forget our mutual worries and pretend everything is ok,” Tyrion said in his usual jovial manner. Jaime could hear the thin undercurrent of true distress in his voice and even though all he wanted to do was go home, curl up with a glass of nice whiskey and watch the latest episode of his favorite detective show, he knew he needed to be there for his brother. After all Tyrion would do the same.

“Did you lose the case?” Jaime asked quietly. His brother was a lawyer who took on far too many cases pro bono, defending sad sacks and helpless people that Jaime sometimes thought deserved what they got.

Tyrion hummed which Jaime took as a yes. “Ok, where do you want to meet?”

They met at a bar squarely between their two places of work. Tyrion’s roommate, Bronn, and Sandor Clegane, a great hulking man that had at some point prevented Tyrion from getting beat up and whom Tyrion had decided to befriend. Together they made a very strange picture.

When Jaime walked into the bar, Tyrion shouted, “Jaime’s here! We’re doing shots!”

Jaime grimaced—he wasn’t 21 anymore—but took the tequila shot Tyrion shoved into his hands, resolved that would be the only shot. He could slip the bartender a twenty so the man would only give him water.

Despite his size, Tyrion could hold his liquor better than anyone Jaime knew and it seemed like he was out to prove it.

Two shots later, he announced that they would move on to the next bar. “Bar crawl, bar crawl, bar crawl,” he chanted, Bronn joining in, but Sandor just surveying them, amused.

Jaime trailed after them, more entertained than drunk, and happy to see Tyrion enjoying himself.

As they moved from bar to bar, the quality of each establishment worsened. The fourth place was no more than a large dilapidated room, dark except for dirty lamps illuminating the pool tables, a harried looking bartender trying his best to look like he knew what he was doing, and the quiet voice of Bob Dylan rasping from an old jukebox in the far corner.

The group of them approached the bar and when Tyrion declared he wanted to buy the room a round of drinks, Jaime almost stopped him before he realized there were hardly any people there.

_Lay lady lay, lay across your big br-aa-ss...brass be-ed_

Jaime looked over at the irritatingly skipping jukebox just in time to see a giant blonde woman stomp over to the thing, lift it off the floor and shake it, smoothing out the sound as she set it down. Jaime would have thought she was a man if it weren’t for the blue flowy halter top and white jeans that no man would be caught dead in.

She clapped her hands together as if to dust them off and turned around. She looked up and their eyes locked across the bar. Jaime’s stomach clenched and he felt like he was burning from the inside out. Her biceps. Oh fuck, her _shoulders_. Her face was nothing special, pale and framed in thin white blonde hair, but that didn’t stop him from picturing all the ways she would look stretched out across his sheets.

Tyrion seemed to notice his abrupt silence and turned to follow Jaime’s gaze. He raised his eyebrows. “I didn’t realize you liked them so big,” he said, hiding a smirk behind his beer.

Jaime glared at him.

“Well, if you’re not going to talk to her, then I will,” Bronn said, shooting down the rest of his drink and rolling his shoulders. “It’s been a while since I’ve had a lady who could fuck me into next Thursday.”

“You’re disgusting,” Sandor said in his gravelly brogue. He raised his hand to the bartender, ordering another beer.

“You will do no such thing,” Jaime said to Bronn. Raising an eyebrow, Bronn gestured for him to go ahead so Jaime swallowed—how long had it been since he had hit on a woman—and marched over to the table in the corner just as a beautiful red-haired woman left the table to go to the bar.

Sitting in the tall chair, she practically towered over him. He put on his most winning smile and said, “Hi there.”

Well, that wasn’t as smooth as he would have liked.

Clearly unimpressed, the woman hardly looked at him before saying, “My friend will be back in a moment if you’d like to talk to her.”

Flabbergasted, Jaime did his best to recover. “Maybe I want to talk to you.”

The woman snorted—snorted!—at him and as he tried to formulate a more convincing reply, the beautiful red-haired woman returned with two drinks, handing one off to the blonde.

“This man wants to talk to you,” the woman Jaime _actually_ wanted to talk to said brusquely directing the other woman’s attention to Jaime. The redhead turned to him and looked him up at down, something suspicious in her blue eyes.

“Can I help you?” she asked, all icy politeness.

He looked between them, weighing his options. He decided just to push through the awkwardness. That’s how you did this right? Chat up women in bars. “I’m Jaime Lannister,” he said, reaching out to shake the woman’s hand. Her fingers were slender and cold. When he gripped the tall woman’s hand, she gripped back, looking at him fiercely. The strength of her fingers made him feel like he had touched a livewire. “Hell of grip,” he said with a smirk.  

“I’m Sansa and this is Brienne,” Sansa said, gesturing at herself and then the blonde.

“Well, _Sansa and Brienne_ , would you like to come join us for a round of drinks? My brother is entirely too willing to make an ass of himself in public but having two beautiful women around can sometimes reign in his more ridiculous impulses.”

Brienne and Sansa looked at each other but agreed when he promised to buy them another round of drinks. Jaime couldn’t tear his eyes away from Brienne when she stood. She was nearly a head taller than him and just as broad. He licked his lips. She brushed past him and followed Sansa to the bar, leaving Jaime to follow after them.

Tyrion promptly went about embarrassing him in that gregarious way of his. Introducing himself as the best lawyer in King’s Landing, and demanding drinks from the bartender.

Jaime was regretting his decision to invite the two women to join them. He really just wanted to talk to Brienne so when the conversation turned to focus on Sansa and Sandor, he put a hand on her elbow in an attempt to gain her attention.

She turned to look at him and in the brighter light of the main bar he was struck by the color of her eyes, so bright a blue that it made the breath catch in his throat. He wondered at how he had thought she was so plain at first.

“So what do you do for a living?”

“I work for Sansa,” she said and Jaime was pretty sure she was trying to dismiss him. He pushed on.

“I gathered,” he said with a slight inclination of his head to the larger group since Sansa had just said that. “What do you do working for her?”

Perhaps he had hit on something she actually wanted to talk about because she finally strung more than five words together in his direction. “I’m her assistant. She runs a small graphic design and printing firm down the street, Gray Wolf Graphics. I manage orders, run the phones, manage the printers.”

“Do you do any design work?” he asked. He wondered if she was interested in architecture. Maybe she’d be impressed if he told her what she did for a living? She didn’t seem the type to be impressed by anything. And oh how he’d love to impress her.

“Some,” she replied, still curt, a light blush spreading up her cheeks. Jaime found it quite fetching.

“You’re a tough nut to crack. Anyone ever tell you that before?” he asked, teasing, hoping that it would make her flush more. Sure enough, the roses in her cheeks bloomed and Jaime couldn’t help but grin.

“Yes,” she said, sounding far too awkward before turning back to the group.

Jaime was disappointed but resolved to get as much time with her as he could. He knew he was handsome and that he could work that to his advantage. So what if Brienne wasn’t fawning all over him like women usually did? He wasn’t one to give up that easy.

It turned out that Brienne was a brilliant pool player, not as good as Sansa, but Jaime didn’t care. He like watching the muscles of her back flex as she lined up her shots.

He could feel Tyrion silently laughing at him the whole night but he ignored it as he tried to find an opening to ask for Brienne’s phone number.

In the end it was Tyrion who did it, drunkenly demanding both Brienne and Sansa’s phone numbers so they could hang out again. It wasn’t as good as getting it himself, but he could make it work.

 

**

“Jaime, you can’t just randomly text a women whose phone number you didn’t even ask for,” Tyrion said over a greasy brunch the next day. “It’s weird.”

“Well, then what do you suggest?” Jaime asked, jamming a fork into his egg and watching the yolk ooze out. It was altogether frustrating. When Tyrion didn’t reply, too busy sawing at the piece of ham on his plate, Jaime said, “Do you think she’s not interested because I’m older than her?”

“I think she’s not interested because she thinks you’re interested in Sansa,” Tyrion said frankly before popping a large piece of ham into his mouth.

“Why the fuck would she think that?” Jaime asked. The redhead was pretty but not at all his type.

Tyrion shrugged. “I’m sure she’s not used to the attention. You know, like how it is when we go out. Women talking to me so they can eventually talk to you.”

Jaime looked heavenward and groaned.

“Though I think you still have hope. I saw her check out your ass. Several times.”

Jaime smirked. His ass was one of his best features.

“Look, you really want to date the girl?” Tyrion asked.

What Jaime wanted to do to Brienne—or have her do to him—was so far past the realm of ‘dating’ that he just had to nod.

“I’ll text Sansa and see if she can give you some pointers. The way to a girl’s heart can usually be found through her best friend,” Tyrion said sagely. And that was that.

Jaime finished his breakfast, his thoughts lingering on the pale expanse of Brienne’s collarbone that had been so deliciously on display the night before.

 

**

Per Sansa’s instructions, as relayed by Tyrion in a very long winded text, Jaime was to meet her at her office on Monday so they could chat. Jaime uncharacteristically took his lunch break, hailing a taxi to get across town, ready to face Sansa, and secretly hoping Brienne would be in the office as well.

Sure enough when he opened the door to the small storefront that was Grey Wolf Graphics, he happened on Brienne, half submerged in a large printer, grunting and yanking at a wayward belt, her hands covered in ink and her face pink with exertion.

He felt the sudden need to adjust his pants but lost the opportunity when Brienne looked up at him. “Mr. Lannister,” Brienne said, surprise clear in her voice.

Jaime a smile spread across his face when he saw the streak of ink across her cheek. It made her look impossibly innocent, like a child helping their mother in the kitchen, making a mess of things.

“It’s good to see you again.” And oh, it truly was.

“Can I help you with something?” she asked, brushing past pleasantries as she stood, once more towering over him. She looked good with the sleeves of her pinstripe button down rolled up to her elbows.

Distracted by the ink on her face, he pulled out his handkerchief and reached up to wipe away the smudge. He heard Brienne’s sharp intake of breath and his gaze focused on her mouth. “There. Much better,” he said, pulling away his hand and palming the now dirty handkerchief.

“Are you here to talk to Sansa? I can see if she’s available,” Brienne said, gesturing at a door across the office.

For a moment, Jaime wished he weren’t, but in the end he knew talking to Sansa was the best course of action. Especially if Brienne was going to be this reluctant to acknowledge his advances. He questioned if it was worth it but then he saw Brienne bite her lip nervously, a soft redness appearing on her cheeks. His heart skipped and his resolve returned.

Brienne grabbed a few kleenexes to wipe her ink stained hands and showed him into Sansa’s office.

She shut the door behind Jaime after he took a seat and when he looked up at Sansa he saw her smirking at him.

“Tyrion tells me you’re after Brienne,” Sansa said with a smile that showed all of her teeth. Something in it reminded Jaime of a wolf and his palms started to sweat.

“Well...yes. I’m having some trouble convincing her it’s not _you_ that I want to ask out,” Jaime said, feeling ridiculously young as he said it.

Sansa nodded before taking her seat. “She doesn’t have the best history with men. Most have trouble seeing past her looks.”

It made Jaime’s hackles rise. “What’s wrong with her looks?”

Sansa raised her eyebrows and laughed at him. “This may surprise you but not every man in the world wants to date a woman who looks like she could step on them.”

The image of Brienne towering over him, dressed in heels and tight leather, riding crop in hand, flashed through Jaime’s mind and he had to fight down a blush. _Oh, fuck._

That was new.

“I just want a chance. Just a date. One date shouldn’t be this hard,” Jaime said. Gods he was pathetic.

“Well, Brienne—much as she doesn’t seem like it—is just like any other woman. She likes gifts and sweet words and getting to know someone,” Sansa said.

“And if she won’t give me the time of day?”

“Then start with gifts,” Sansa replied as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“What sort of things does she like?” Jaime asked, trying to not think of the riding crop.

“You could try flowers? I know she likes sweet things, and weird old collectibles, exotic plants. God if you ever see her apartment it's full of all sorts of oddities.” Sansa’s eyes twinkled at him, a secretive smile on her face.

“Well, it’s as good a place to start as any.”

“Let me know if I can help in any way,” she offered before showing him out of her office.

Jaime left with a new sense of resolve, deciding he would go to the florist after work and then do some research on bakeries in the area. He always liked having a plan.

That evening at the florist he looked through daffodils which he quickly dismissed as too cheery and hardly an expression of interest. The carnations were too plain and the red roses looked like something he’d see at his father’s mansion in the country during the holidays. He was about to ask the florist’s advice when he saw the perfect thing. A pale set of a dozen white roses almost the color of Brienne’s hair with edges just the slightest pink, reminding Jaime of the way Brienne blushed when he flirted with her.

He promptly put in the order to be delivered the next day with only a brief note, hoping it would at least give her a reason to call him and then have his phone number which could only be a good thing.

 

**

His phone rang the next day around one o’clock. The day been so busy that he hadn’t had the time to worry about Brienne calling him about the flowers so when he answered the unknown number it was with a confused “Hello?”

“Hello, Mr. Lannister—”

“You know, you can call me Jaime,” he said, happy that she called.

“We got your flowers,” she said, her husky voice over the phone doing wonderful things to Jaime’s stomach. “Sansa wanted me to call and thank you.” The wonderful things in his stomach quickly turned sour.

“Sansa wanted you to,” Jaime repeated with no little amount of dread.

“She said they were very beautiful.”

“And what did you think?” Jaime asked, pushing for at least some confirmation that she liked them as much as he thought she would.

“They are very pretty, but if you’re looking for my advice, Sansa prefers daisies,” she answer primly.

“Right.”

“But she did like these,” Brienne said in a rush as if she were worried she had upset him.

“Thanks for calling, Brienne. I’m glad you got the flowers,” he said, feeling tired. He hung up and let his head fall back against his office chair.

He was going to have to try harder.

 

**

After sending both cookies and muffins from his favorite bakery, Jaime went out on a limb and bought her a cactus, thinking back on Sansa’s mention of her preference for exotic plants. She never called to thank him on Sansa’s behalf again so Jaime thought she was finally getting the picture.

He convinced Tyrion to set up another round of drinks on Friday, deciding that it was time to lay it all out on the table. He would get Brienne alone and ask her out. If she said no, she said no. He left work a little early to go home and change, hoping that a casual outfit would make Brienne feel more comfortable around him.

The Red Keep was just as dingy as he remembered. Brienne and Sansa were already there, chatting and laughing at one of the large tables close to the entrance. Brienne’s short hair was swept back from her face and Jaime mourned the absence of the halter top from the previous week, though her black button down _did_ make her forearms look fantastic.

The minute he sat down, Brienne excused herself from the table and walked to the bar. Jaime looked at Sansa helplessly but she just shrugged so Jaime found himself trailing after her.

“Would you like a drink? I can order one and take it back to the table,” she offered when he pulled up. He waved her off and ordered his own.

Brienne’s pale eyebrows drew together and she asked, “What about Sansa?”

“I think she’ll be fine by herself,” Jaime replied, his mouth twisting. He wished she’d stop asking about Sansa. “How’s your week been?”

“Well, _somebody_ has been sending an insane amount of gifts to the office so it’s been a bit strange,” Brienne said, her eyes flashing with humor and Jaime internally cheered. Finally!

“My personal favorite was the cactus. Truly inspired,” she said with a bright laugh. He was glad he took the risk if it made her laugh like that.

Jaime laughed too, unable to stop himself at the sight of her own happiness. “I had to get creative. Baked goods and flowers can only go so far.”

“Those muffins were delicious though. Sansa had lemon poppyseed and couldn’t stop gushing about it for the rest of the day,” Brienne said, still smiling.

“What kind did you have? I’m partial to the apple cinnamon.” He took his drink from the bartender, glad to finally be able to talk to Brienne without her shutting him down at every turn.

Though he had to admit to himself that he liked that too.

“I had the blueberry almond. Though we split an apple cinnamon the next day and it was very good,” Brienne said. Once she got her drink, they returned to the table to find Tyrion and Sandor had  already arrived, Tyrion chatting up Sansa as he was wont to do. Eventually, Sansa invited Sandor to another round of pool and Jaime got the feeling that it was a more than friendly invitation so Jaime made sure the rest of them stayed behind.

“So Brienne of the beautiful blue eyes, how did you meet Sansa?” Tyrion said. Jaime sent him a sharp look.

Brienne blushed but shared the short story of working with Sansa’s mother throughout college before leaving to work with Sansa herself.

“Tyrion—you’re a lawyer. And Jaime—what do you do?” Brienne turned the full force of her eyes on him and he found himself at a loss for words.

“Architect,” he forced out.

Brienne nodded with a small hum of acknowledgment.

“Jesus fucking christ, get it together,” Tyrion mumbled in irritation before stalking off toward the pool tables.

It was silent for a moment so Jaime forced himself to focuse. This was it. He had her alone. He could do it. She liked his cactus!

“Would you maybe want to get dinner with me tomorrow?” Jaime asked and Brienne started spluttering into her drink.

After a harsh cough, she nodded and said, “It would probably be good to talk if you want some help convincing Sansa to go out with you. She said she likes you but doesn’t want to move too fast.”

 _WHAT THE FUCK_ , a voice screamed inside him. Before he could explain himself, she continued, “I have to admit, you’re a lot nicer than the other men who try to pump me for information about her. You actually seem to care and not just want to get into her pants. I’m glad to help you know. I just want her to be happy.”

Gods, she was too sweet. Jaime reminded himself that she had said yes so it was technically a win. Maybe he could talk to her the next day and get her to shift her focus off of Sansa.  When he leaned in closer, he saw her eyes flick to his lips and his disappointment quickly turned to excitement.

“Why don’t you text me a place where you and Sansa get dinner a lot? Somewhere you both like. We can meet there and talk.”

He took her hand in his—fuck her hands were so big, he wanted them on his body—he scribbled his number into her skin, certain she hadn’t kept it from the cards he had sent with his gifts.

“I can do that,” she said, her cheeks a bright red.

No matter what she insisted, he _did_ have an effect on her. He smirked and kept his thoughts to himself. He’d tell her tomorrow. “Let’s go join the others. Next round on me.”

After a couple games of pool and a few more drinks, the group decided they’d had enough and headed outside. They had barely been outside a few moments when an extremely intoxicated man appeared out the door of the RK and tried to grab Sansa. Jaime jolted forward to stop him, but he wasn’t as fast as Brienne.

In a pale blonde blur of muscle, Brienne had the man on the ground in seconds, her knee in his back and her strong hands around his wrists.

The roaring in Jaime’s ears drowned out everything she said. He sucked in a breath as his blood rushed south. He felt too hot. It was too hot.

“Holy shit,” he breathed.

Brienne released the man and turned to look at Jaime, her attention drawn by his words. Her brow furrowed for a moment but she just shrugged and ushered Sansa into a cab.

Tyrion watched the cab drive off and then turned back to Jaime, taking one look at his face before bursting out laughing.

“Shut up,” Jaime ground out and soon Sandor was laughing at him too.

 

**

Brienne arrived at the restaurant in a tunic and leggings. Leggings that showed off every inch of her muscled thighs.

Jaime greeted her with a kiss on the cheek, delighted when she turned that perfect shade of pink.

After he poured her a glass of wine, he asked the question he’d been dying to know the answer to. “So...last night...you really took that creep down. Where’d you learn that?”

“I wrestled in high school,” Brienne said and Jaime immediately imagining her in skin tight latex. Maybe not a good line of questioning.

Jaime asked Brienne to order for both of them when the waiter arrived—it was her choice of restaurant after all. Once the man left, he decided it was time. He was going to explain the whole misunderstanding to her and get a firm answer: was she interested or not?

His heart dropped when he saw Sansa approach with Sandor by her side. That woman had the worst timing.

Brienne’s surprise showed on her face. She obviously hadn’t expected them to show up. Well at least Jaime didn’t have to worry that Brienne had invited her in some effort to matchmake. “What are you doing here?”

“Well, I took your advice and asked Sandor out. He wanted to take me out to my favorite restaurant so here we are!” Sansa answered, patting Sandor on the forearm affectionately.

After the two left, Brienne whirled to face Jaime, looking horrified. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea. Honestly,” she said. She reached out and took his hand with a genuinely concerned expression.

Finally having enough, Jaime gripped her hand back forcefully and said, “For gods sake woman, I’m not interested in Sansa! You are the densest person I’ve ever met. I’m interested in _you._ ”

Brienne dropped his hand “I—”

The waiter appeared and placed their dishes in front of them. Jaime kept his attention on Brienne. “Yes, you. What else do I have to do? More flowers? I sent you a godsdamn cactus. A cactus!”

Brienne’s eyes grew impossibly wide. “Men are never interested in me.”

The soft words sounded like a confession and it made Jaime’s heart break.

“Their loss,” Jaime said, anger winning out over kindness. And then against the little amount of good judgment he had, he leaned forward and said, “I’d love for you to try that wrestling move on me sometime.”

Brienne flushed, but Jaime refused to stop. “All I’m asking is for an honest date. You, me, conversation, and then maybe another date if you decide you like me.”

“I already like you,” Brienne said shyly. Jaime grinned back at her. Perfect.

“Is that so?”

“Don’t let it go to your head,” Brienne said, her voice admonishing. His smile grew wider.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“So is this our first date then?” Brienne asked. She gestured at the table before picking up her fork.

“Nope, doesn’t count because you didn’t think it was a date,” Jaime replied. It felt good to actually flirt with her knowing she wasn’t going to shut him out.

“So then what’s our first date going to be?” Brienne said, her small smile becoming so bright that it felt like a victory.

“Whatever you want it to be,” Jaime said and he realized he really meant it.

Even if he wished it would maybe involve that leather catsuit he’d been fantasizing about.


	2. Dinosaurs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime and Brienne go bowling for their first date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> all fluff all the time

Brienne fussed with the hem of the dress that Sansa picked out for her. It was some long sleeved floaty thing that Brienne would never have chosen herself but that she had to admit looked pretty good. It made her look less like a ghost, and more like a pale old-fashioned lady. If an old-fashioned lady could get away with showing so much leg. She briefly considered leggings to protect herself from the cold winter weather but she knew Sansa would have none of it.

She walked out of the bathroom and Sansa whistled at her before clapping her hands with joy. “It looks so good!” she cried, rushing to Brienne’s side and fluttering around her like a bird. “Are you going to wear any jewelry? Makeup?”

“Jewelry, no,” Brienne said firmly, but then she hesitated. “Makeup…”

Sansa took her hesitance as acceptance and dragged her to the bed. “Let me do it,” she said, whipping a small bag from her purse. Brienne’s eyes widened when she saw the sheer amount of brushes and pencils and compacts the girl had jammed in there.

“Is that Mary Poppins’s bag?” she asked archly, peering inside. Sansa hit her arm playfully.

“No, I just know how to pack. Now close your eyes,” she demanded and Brienne complied. A few sweeps of a brush and a little mascara later Brienne found herself looking in the mirror, shocked at how so little could make her look somehow more...herself.

Sansa grabbed her shoulders and jiggled her back and forth. “Look how blue your eyes lo-oo-ook,” she said excitedly, her voice warbling as she shook Brienne.

Brienne pulled away and looked into Sansa’s eyes. “Thank you, Sansa,” she said, all seriousness. Her friend just grinned back at her.

“Jaime’s gonna drool all over you,” she said confidently and Brienne blushed.

Checking the time, she had about thirty minutes to get across town. When Jaime had called her on Monday to ask where she wanted to go for their first official date, she had said the first thing that came to mind. He had laughed, but in typical good humor told her he would take care of everything. He’d texted her on Thursday with the details.

She hoped bowling wasn’t too low brow for him. She could just picture him, showing up to the old alley dressed in a suit and looking ridiculously out of place. She smiled at the thought as slipped on her flats and tucked a pair of socks into her cross-body bag. There was no way she was going to go barefoot in a pair of used bowling shoes.

A nervous train-ride—oh gods it was happening—and a very nervous walk later, Brienne opened the door to the bowling alley and rubbed her sweating hands down her dress. The dark blue fabric absorbed the moisture as she took in the tell-tale smell of stale smoke and fried food.

A tinkling circus jingle drew her attention and she saw an archway on the far side of the room that opened up into an arcade, all number of children and adults running excitedly from machine to machine, getting tokens and cheering when they won. Brienne smiled to herself at the pure joy in it.

“What’s got you grinning?”

Brienne turned to her right where Jaime stood, hands in his pockets, shoulder leaning against the wall by the register. She fought down a blush and focused on her breathing. He looked good enough to eat in his sweater and faded jeans even with ridiculous bowling shoes sticking out the bottom.

She gestured over to the arcade and said, “It's nice to see people having fun.”

“Want to play?” he asked waggling his eyebrows. She shook her head.

“Bowling’s fine.”

Together they walked to the counter and Brienne had to order the largest shoe size they had in stock. In mens. She began to regret suggesting bowling as a first date. Jaime had seemed up for anything. And Brienne liked bowling. Embarrassed, she avoided Jaime’s eyes as she pulled on her socks and then laced them up. God, she was basically a clown in these shoes.

When she finally got up the nerve to look at Jaime, she found him staring at her legs. Noticing her attention, he cleared his throat. “I like that dress by the way,” he said, giving it an appreciative once over.

“Oh thank you,” she said, smoothing her hands over the skirt once more. “Sansa helped me pick it out. I don’t usually wear things so...girly.”

“Well Sansa has good taste. Girly or not, I think it looks great.” He leaned in close and whispered in her ear, “It makes your legs look amazing. It would be even better with heels.”

Brienne blushed to the roots of her hair. She never wore heels. Not just because they made her feel like a teetering giraffe, but because she already had to look down at everyone, she didn’t need to make it worse. “I don’t own any heels.”

“Maybe Sansa can help you pick some out. If not, I think I have some suggestions,” he said, eyes bright. He took her by the wrist and led her to the lane at the far end of the alley.

Brienne set down her purse on the little table behind the lane and wandered down the shelves looking for a bowling ball that she’d like. She usually needed something a little heavier and since her fingers were so long, bigger holes to grip it with. Towards the far end of the alley she finally found the perfect silver ball, its surface a stormcloud swirl.

When she returned to Jaime, she saw he had already chosen a smallish purple thing that she personally thought was going to be too light for him.

“Um...when was the last time you went bowling?” she asked, tentative.

“I’ve never been,” Jaime said, looking up at her from where he was seated. “It can’t be that hard though. I’ve seen people do it in movies. It’s just throwing a ball.”

Brienne plunked down her ball on the conveyor and then picked up Jaime’s. It couldn’t be more than 8 pounds. She handed it to him. “Put your fingers in the holes.”

Jaime made a little choking noise but did as she asked. Sure enough his fingers were far too big. When she took the ball back from him, their hands brushed and static shocked between them. A little out of sorts she said, “I’ll pick out a ball for you. This one is too small.”

“Are you some sort of bowling expert?” Jaime asked, his eyes flashing with good humor.

“Compared to you,” she replied, monotone, before walking away from Jaime’s laughter. He seemed to like to do that. Laugh at her. In any other circumstance, she would be embarrassed or wonder what she did wrong, but there was something about his laughter that made her feel warm inside. It wasn’t mocking. It was almost...affectionate.

She picked a much heavier ball with much larger holes and returned it to Jaime. “Isn’t this too heavy?” he asked, standing up and moving his arm to test the weight.

“You want it to be a little heavy or else, when you throw it, it’ll go straight in the gutter.”

Jaime returned the ball to the conveyor and then bowed to her dramatically. “I will defer to your wisdom, oh my sweet Bowling Queen.”

Brienne gave him an unimpressed look before beginning her turn. She made a spare and was pretty proud of herself. She hadn’t been bowling in a while, but that was a decent warm up shot. Jaime clapped and cheered, being generally ridiculous behind her and drawing all sorts of attention. She gave him a glare, but he grinned back at her, clearly pleased with himself.

Jaime had input their names while she was looking for ball. Thankfully she was simply Brienne . Jaime on the other hand had input his name as Sexy .

“You’re an idiot,” she said when he stood up to take his turn and his name flashed across the screen.

“A sexy idiot,” he replied, picking up his ball and lining up his shot, his face deadly serious as he focused on the pins.

Brienne watched as Jaime tried to aim, moving his arm back and form. She chastised herself as she realized she was staring at his butt. It looked unfairly good in his jeans.

As soon as Jaime released the ball it slammed into the slick floor of the lane and spun into the gutter with no ceremony and a sad clunk.

Jaime turned around, looking flummoxed. “That’s not what I expected to happen.”

Several turns later, they turned on the bumpers.

“I’ll have you know, I’m usually very good at sports,” Jaime said with a huff, crossing his arms over his chest when Brienne sat in the chair next to him after a particularly efficient strike. “Tennis. I’m very good at tennis.”

Brienne couldn’t help the laugh that escaped her, turning quickly from a chuckle to an outright giggle. The look of frustration dropped from Jaime’s face, replaced by an overjoyed smile. “Though I’d gladly fuck up at that too if it would make you laugh like that again.”

Brienne brought her hand up to cover her mouth as the last of the giggles died, her heart skipping in her chest at Jaime’s comment.

He actually likes me .

It was difficult for her to believe.

He slapped his hands against his thighs with determination before standing. He pressed a swift kiss to her hair and said, “You’re pretty when you laugh.”

The breath promptly left Brienne’s lungs. She was so distracted that she didn’t even notice when Jaime got a strike without the ball even hitting the bumpers. He turned around, his arms wide open with excitement. She shook herself and then started clapping. “Oh very good. You could go pro at this point.”

“Hey, I’m learning,” Jaime retorted. With the game finished, and Brienne clearly the champion, Jaime redirected his boundless energy and said, “How about some food? I have it on good authority that bowling alleys make a mean nacho. And by mean I mean disgusting. But I’m up for adventure if you are.”

“How about we play it safe instead,” Brienne said, taking a risk and patting the back of his hand. He gave her one of those sharklike grins and they went to the bar, ordered hot dogs and a pitcher of beer.

Brienne liked her hotdogs with mustard and Jaime scoffed at her as he put an obscene amount of ketchup on his.

They sat down and dug in. When Brienne finished her food, she looked up to find Jaime staring at her mouth, food forgotten on his paper plate. She frowned at him and his eyes widened. “Sorry, you have a little—” he said, gesturing to his mouth as he focused on his food.

Brienne wiped her mouth with her napkin, but it came away clean. “Did I get it?” she asked.

Jaime looked at her and nodded, his mouth full.

Brienne sipped at her beer and looked around the room. It was a smaller bowling alley, not like the ones downtown with karaoke and fancy lanes. She preferred it that way, less people to stare at her and Jaime, wondering why such a handsome man was with a lumbering thing like her.

“I don’t think I’ve had a hot dog since college,” Jaime said, licking the remnants of ketchup from his fingers when he finished, distracting her from her thoughts. “They’re pretty good.”

Brienne took a swig of beer. “Some of the things you say make it sound like you were raised on another planet.”

Jaime shifted, his expression turning guarded.

Feeling like she had maybe ruined the mood, she poked him on the arm and asked, all faux seriousness, “Are you actually an alien?”

“Worse,” Jaime said into his cup of beer, still somehow morose. Brienne cocked her head. “My parents are rich.”

Brienne raised her eyebrows. “I know that,” she said, confused at Jaime acting like this was some big confession.

“What?” he asked, his face belying a mixture of nerves and disbelief.

“Your last name is Lannister. I live in the world, Jaime. I’ve heard of Lannister Holdings, and Lannister Hotels, and the Lannister Bank for gods’ sake.”

“There could be other Lannisters,” he pointed out, looking chastised.

“Well there aren’t,” she replied.

“It doesn’t bother you?” he asked, searching her face. There was something vulnerable in it, almost fear, and Brienne shook her head.

“You’re not as much of an asshole as you could be for a rich kid,” she replied frankly causing a surprised laugh to burst from Jaime.

“You didn’t know me when I was young or else you might change your tune,” he said, shaking his head.

Brienne peered at him, the light catching the silver in his gold hair and she frowned, a question forming in her mind. “How old are you?”

“37,” he said, his eyes quickly shifting down to his hands and then back up at her. “That’s older than you isn’t it?”

“I’m 26,” she offers. The age difference didn’t bother her. Why would it? She was still in awe that someone like Jaime would even give her the time of day, age be damned. But perhaps he cared. “Is that a problem?” she asked, setting her jaw.

Jaime just looked back at her, green eyes unguarded for a moment before shuttering again. “It’s not for me if it's not for you.”

“It’s not” she said as emphatically as she knew how. Not liking how Jaime seemed to be sinking into himself, she stood.

“Come with me,” she said, holding out her hand. Jaime took it, expression still closed but somehow trusting.

“Where are we going?”

“To play skee ball,” she announced.

Jaime was marginally better at skee ball than he was at bowling. Every time Brienne sank one of the 100 point balls he groaned loudly. “This is ridiculous,” he said, taking his turn. “How are you good at everything ?”

“We can play something else,” she offered, a smirk playing across her lips. It felt so strange, this buoyant joy rising inside her.

“No, dammit, I’m getting better,” he said, trying to toss another ball. He sank it in the center ring and then clapped his hands with a triumphant cry. Brienne hid a laugh behind her hand but it didn’t prevent her from receiving an offended glare.

“No, you are. You’re getting better,” she said, trying to wave him off, still laughing, and Jaime narrowed his eyes at her.

“You’re cruel, you know that? Teasing an old man,” he said, paying for another round.

Eventually, Brienne took pity on him and they moved to different machines. He was actually quite good at pinball and this ridiculous button pushing thing that played music as you followed along. Tickets jammed into his hands, he forced Brienne to stand outside of the little shop where kids were turning in their tickets for prizes. She folded her arms over her chest and tried to see what he was picking out.

He returned with two matching erasers shaped like dinosaurs. He handed one to her and then bonked it with his own in a mockery of a cheers motion. “One for you and one for me,” he said with another of those blinding grins.

She looked down at the green eraser in her hand and felt her eyes begin to prick. It was—it was a stupid little thing, but it felt like so much more. She cleared her throat, embarrassed by her swell of emotion.

“Dinosaurs?” she said, trying to sound incredulous, as she pushed through the desire to cry and instead bumping Jaime’s shoulder with her own.

“It was either that or princess tiaras and I thought you’d like this better.”

“Well you were right. I think you’re getting to know me pretty well already,” she said, slipping the eraser into her bag. Jaime’s eyes trailed the motion and lingered on her hip where her purse rested.

“I hope so,” he said, half to himself.

11 o’clock rolled around and with it the bowling alley began to close. They turned their bowling shoes in and Jaime grabbed his jacket from the coat check after paying. Brienne offered to pay half and he just waved her off.

The air had turned sharp with the winter chill and Brienne shivered at the sudden change in temperature. The bowling alley had been warm with bodies and the wind nipped at her exposed legs. A jacket slipped around her shoulders and she turned to look at Jaime who shrugged. “You looked cold.”

The jacket was warm with his body heat and even if the sleeves were a bit too short, it still fit across her shoulders. She bundled it around her body, inhaling the subtle smell of Jaime’s detergent. Jaime reached out and took her hand in his with a brief squeeze making Brienne’s heart thunder in her chest. When was the last time she had held a man’s hand? Her brief series of dates with Renly? He ended up being gay. Hyle in college? He ended up being a dick.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to call you a cab?” Jaime said when they stopped in front of the station. Brienne nodded.

“It’s just a couple stops.”

He nodded and let go of her hand. She looked down at her own like she had never seen it before and when she looked back up she saw his expression had turned soft.

“I’m glad you went out with me tonight,” he said, his gaze so intense that Brienne had to fight to not look away.

“Me too. It was...nice.”

Jaime laughed and shook his head. “You have such a way with words. Makes a man feel special.”

“Jaime I—”

He shook his head and said, “I’m teasing. You’re easy to fluster. I like that.”

Brienne blushed.

And just like that Jaime leaned in and brushed his lips over her cheek. They were dry and soft and made her face tingle. Her stomach clenched as she looked at him, shock and delight mingling inside her.

“I’ll text you tomorrow?”

Brienne nodded, momentarily mute, and watched him walk away. She turned and hurried down the steps to catch the next train, her heart still pattering in her chest as she replayed the feeling of his lips on her cheek.

She was halfway home when she realized she was still wearing his coat.


	3. Chicken Soup

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime takes care of Brienne when she gets sick.

Jaime didn’t want to yell at Edmure, he really didn’t. However, the stupid man had sent out of date designs to his father, and his father had yelled at  _him_ so it was difficult to quell the urge.

Jaime was lucky enough to rarely work on designs for his father. He could usually delegate it to the other teams, giving them the opportunity to work on hotels and banks and high rises. It gave Jaime the option of working on what he wanted to work on: museums and performance venues. The sorts of things that reminded him  _why_ he had wanted to be architect.

His father breathing down his neck had not been one of those reasons. But that’s what he got for letting Tywin open Lannister Construction: a permanent contract with the old bastard and the unfortunate requirement of having to occasionally report to him.

“Look, Tully,” Jaime said after he took a few deep breaths. “Just be more careful next time. We don’t need Tywin trying to meddle in our work. He’s a pain in the ass as it is”

Edmure nodded, shifting around on his feet. Jaime’s cellphone pinged on his desk so he dismissed Edmure before picking it up.

_I have to cancel tonight_

Jaime frowned at the phone. Ever since their first date, he and Brienne had been in regular contact, texting about mundane things. He’d sent her more muffins and she’d texted him a picture of the apple cinnamon half eaten on her desk with a brief thank you and a smiley face.

_Does tomorrow work?_

He waited a few moments. It was easy enough to reschedule dinner. He’d just call the restaurant to move the reservation. Easy, he told himself even though he couldn’t stop his disappointment. He’d had a shit day and had been looking forward to seeing her. It had been a whole week since their bowling date and he wanted to see her again. His thoughts drifted to the way her legs had looked in that short blue dress. His heart thumped loud in his chest and he wondered if he could convince her to wear that halter top from the bar when he’d first seen her.

_Im not sure. Im sick_

Jaime’s frown deepened. That was no good.

_Whats your address_

_Jaime do NOT come over_

_ADDRESS_

He could picture her rolling her eyes at her phone. When she didn’t reply immediately he added,

_I can bring you soup_

_Fine_

Another text message pinged through. She lived across town, close to the bar where they had met. He supposed it made sense. It was close to her place of work.

It was only four thirty but he gathered his coat and laptop and left the office, brushing past his assistant who looked at him like he’d grown a second head.

“Mr. Lannister! Are you all right?” she asked, rushing to stand up.

“I’m fine. You can go home early.” He pulled on his peacoat and began buttoning it as he waited for the elevator.

“Oh! Ok! I mean, thank you!”

He stopped at the pharmacy across from his office and stared at the medicine in front of him. Brienne hadn’t exactly said what she was sick with so he filled the basket with anything and everything to address whatever could possibly be wrong. Nyquil, Dayquil, Sudafed, cough drops, Vick’s, some Tums, Advil.

He picked up some lemon tea, honey, and saltines from the pathetically stocked food aisle before plopping his basket down at the checkout. The teenage cashier’s eyes widened. “Are you ok?” he asked, taking in the sheer amount of medicine in the basket.

“My girlfriend is ill,” Jaime answered, pulling out his wallet and then pausing. The words had just come out.  _Girlfriend_. Was Brienne his girlfriend? They had only gone on one date. Well two if you counted the half date that Brienne thought was a friendly dinner. Jaime wasn’t exactly one to date around or even  _want_ to see other people when he was interested in someone. Something told him that Brienne wasn’t like that either.

The pimpled teenager was speaking to him but he hadn’t noticed. “Paper or plastic,” the boy asked, repeating himself more forcefully as he tried to regain Jaime’s attention.

“Plastic is fine,” Jaime said absently. He swiped his card and considered where he wanted to get soup.

He ended up stopping at a deli close to Brienne’s house where he ordered himself a sandwich and her some chicken noodle. The cashier double bagged the steaming container and, laden with his purchases, Jaime walked the final block to Brienne’s apartment building.

It was a small thing, no more than twenty units and more than fifteen years old. It wasn’t a hideous thing but it was definitely...utilitarian.

He hit the buzzer to Brienne’s apartment—303—and waited for the answering buzz. Nothing. He tried again and then he heard a huffing on the other line.

“Jaime?” a voice said through the speaker. Brienne’s normally soft voice distorted by congestion.

“Buzz me in,” he said in reply and the door clicked.

The building had no elevator so Jaime had to climb up three flights of stairwell that smelled like cigarette smoke and old laundry.

He knocked on Brienne’s door and put his shoulders back, the climb up the stairs making him sweat a little under his thick wool coat. He heard a shuffling on the other side of the door before it swung open, revealing Brienne in a soft looking button down pajama shirt and boxer briefs that fit her like a second skin—holy fuck her thighs. Jaime dragged his gaze up to her face and saw her red nose and tired eyes.

“Soup?” she asked hopefully, looking at the bags in his hands.

“Soup,” he confirmed and she opened up her door further to let him in.

Even sick, her apartment was impeccably clean, the only evidence otherwise the smattering of tissues by the couch and the empty cup of tea with the tea bag still in it sitting morosely on the coffee table.

On either side of the television rose tall shelving units filled with books and assorted knick knacks. Jaime immediately understood what Sansa had meant when she said Brienne collected “oddities.”

“You can put it on the counter,” Brienne said, nodding to the kitchen. The apartment was fairly open, with a kitchen counter jutting out from the far wall, beyond it a stove and sink. He saw the cactus he had bought her sitting on a doily in the middle of the round table close to the window. He smiled as he set the bags down.

Brienne wandered around the living room, seemingly dazed as she picked up some of her discarded tissues, carrying them into the kitchen where she tossed them in the trash under the kitchen sink. “You didn’t have to come over you know,” she said as she ripped open the bag with the soup container.

“I wanted to see you,” Jaime replied earnestly. He liked the way her forearms flexed as she ripped open the plastic bag. Realizing he should be the one taking care of everything—that’s why he’d come over—he herded Brienne back to the couch. “Sit down. I’ll get the soup.”

Brienne scowled at him. “I can put soup in a bowl. I have a cold. I’m not dying.”

Jaime patted her on the head and she swiped at his hand. “There, there. Let me take care of you,” he said, playfully condescending.

Brienne grumbled at him but stayed seated. He took that as a win. He spotted a ladle in a caddy next to the stove and snagged it, scooping a generation portion of soup into the bowl Brienne had already taken down from the cabinet. The broth was still steaming so he wrapped the bowl in a hand towel and carried it over to her on the couch, setting it on the coffee table within reach. Brienne sniffled and let out a hacking cough.

“Do you need anything else?” he asked, feeling like a mother hen. She looked so sad and he wanted to fix it. He went back to the counter and grabbed the bag from the pharmacy. “I have Nyquil—it’s probably too early for that. Unless you want to nap. Do you need to nap? Do you want nasal spray? Oh, or a cough drop? What about Vick’s? I’ve never used it but I hear it’s good for congestion.”

Brienne took the bag from where he had rested it on the back of the sofa and placed it on her lap before looking inside. Her eyebrows went up. “Did you buy the entire pharmacy?”

“I wasn’t sure what you needed,” he said. Maybe he had been a little overzealous.

“It’s sweet,” Brienne said, looking away and biting her lip. Jaime’s stomach skipped and he felt the urge to kiss her. He wished he had kissed her outside the bowling alley when she had looked at him with those big eyes and grasped at his coat around her shoulders. He hadn’t wanted to rush things and now he was kicking himself.

Brienne pulled the tub of Vick’s from the bag and unscrewed the lid. The smell of eucalyptus wafted from the open container. Brienne scooped some out and then looked at her shirt in consternation, as she realized she should have unbuttoned it first. She went to smear the rub back into the container but Jaime stepped around the couch and sat next to her. “Here, let me.”

He reached out and unbuttoned the top three buttons of her shirt, his fingers ghosting over her collarbone. His mouth went dry as he exposed each sliver of pale skin. He heard a sharp inhale and realized it was his own as his thumb ghosted over the side of her neck. She pulled away quickly

“Um, thanks, I’ve—I can do the rest,” she said, avoiding his eyes.

He dropped his hands in his lap, part of him—a very large part of him—wanting to take the container away from her and rub the salve over her chest, every inch and then some.

Turning away, Brienne efficiently finished with the Vick’s and disappeared into the bathroom to wash her hands. When she returned she had closed her shirt, looking embarrassed.

Jaime stared after her as she walked to the front door. “Thanks for the soup, Jaime.”

“I’m staying,” he said firmly from his seat on the couch.

Brienne sighed and said, “You’ll get sick.”

“I’ll take vitamins,” he countered.

“Vitamins are a hoax.”

“Just let me stay,” he said, trying to give her his best puppy dog eyes. It must have worked because Brienne’s shoulders slumped in defeat.

Jaime took off his suit jacket and tossed it onto the end table next to the couch. “What are we watching?” he asked, looking at the paused TV.

Brienne sat next to him and then blew her nose into a kleenex. “I think some home reno show?”

Jaime grimaced a little. He didn’t usually go in for that sort of thing, but he wasn’t going to complain if that’s what Brienne wanted to watch. Sick person’s choice and all.

“That is the ugliest house I have ever seen,” Jaime said with consternation when the Guerreros picked an open concept condo at the end of the next episode. “A waste of money.”

Brienne looked over at him from where she had laid down on the far end of the couch, her head pillowed on the armrest. “If you’re going to freak out every time someone picks a house we should watch something else.”

Jaime paused the television again and stood to go over to her bookshelves. He surveyed the seashells and strange metalwork with interest. A conversation for another day.

Squatting down, he looked over her movie collection. A startling amount of Jane Austen adaptations. “You like Pride and Prejudice?”

“Doesn’t everyone?” Brienne replied, her voice muffled by a tissue.

“I’ve never seen it. Though Tyrion always tells me I should.”

Brienne sat up like a shot. “You’ve never seen it?”

“No?” Jaime asked warily.

“We’re watching it,” Brienne said firmly. “Put it in.”

“That’s what she said,” Jaime mumbled as he opened the dvd case. A hand towel abruptly hit him in the back of the head. “Hey!” he cried, looking accusingly over at Brienne.

“No innuendos during Pride and Prejudice.”

Jaime laughed and slipped the disk into the dvd player. He stood and adjusted his clothes. He maybe should have taken the time to go home and change. A suit he had worn all day wasn’t exactly what he’d be wearing if he had a choice. He untucked his shirt and contemplated taking off his belt. When he looked up, he saw Brienne staring at him, redfaced.

“If you want to um—if you want to borrow a shirt, you can. I’m sure I have something that will fit you,” she offered.

She seemed uncomfortable but the desire to change out of his clothes—and potentially wear Brienne’s—won out. He nodded and Brienne went into her bedroom and returned with a t-shirt and sweatpants. “I wasn’t sure if you’d want pants too. You don’t have to wear them.”

“Thanks,” Jaime said,  looking down at the clothes like they were something precious.

Brienne showed him to the bathroom as the trailers ran on the dvd and Jaime quickly shucked off his work clothes, pulling on Brienne’s sweatpants—they were too long—and shirt—it was too big. He looked in the mirror and in her clothes he felt like he looked unbelievably young even with the beginnings of gray in his hair and smile lines beginning to carve themselves into his cheeks.

Brienne was in the kitchen when he exited the bathroom. She looked at him over the counter and stuttered, “Sorry—they’re a little big.”

“I like it,” Jaime replied frankly. And he did. It made him imagine what her body—larger than his—would feel like pressed against him.

“Oh,” Brienne choked out.

Jaime came up next to her and asked, “What are you doing? Do you need something?”

“I’m just making tea,” she said, gesturing to the hissing tea kettle.

“Go sit down. I’ll make it.”

Brienne pursed her lips.

Jaime gave her the stink eye until she caved and slunk back to the couch complaining quietly about pig-headed men.

“What kind do you want and how do you like it?”

“Anything’s fine.”

Jaime heard her shake out some advil from the container he had brought and he felt sympathy rise in him. He put together the lemon tea he had brought, adding a spoonful of honey.

Jaime returned to the couch and placed the cup next to Brienne on the coffee table and took the bowl of soup into the kitchen. When Jaime sat next to her, Brienne laid back down with a plaintive cough, and he put his hand on her calf. Her skin was smooth and warm under his palm and he had to stop himself from running his fingers all the way up her leg. “Hey,” he said. Goosebumps formed under the pads of his fingers and Brienne sat back up pulling away from him as she moved. “Come here.”

She looked at him warily and he patted his thigh. “Put your head in my lap.”

Her expression shifted quickly between hope and suspicion. “I’m not going to bite you,” he said and she slowly adjusted to lay down in the opposite direction, her head settling into his lap “There you go.”

He brushed her hair back from her face, her exhalation momentarily warming his thigh. He played with the thin strands of her hair, so fine it tickled his fingers. She sighed a little, a sound that pleased him so much he continued until the movie fully drew his attention.

“So Mr. Darcy is a dick?” Jaime asked when the man in question stormed off screen after insulting Elizabeth. “Is this movie why you think rich people are terrible?”

Brienne looked back at him from her position in his lap. “This movie  _and_ my experiences with actual rich people.”

“You’ve known other rich people,” Jaime asked, feigning hurt. “You mean I’m not your first?”

Brienne blushed furiously and Jaime realized the sudden double meaning in his words. “Not that there’s anything wrong with it if I’m not. Or if I am,” he said, finding himself blushing as well. God, Brienne made him feel so green. Like a fumbling schoolboy trying to woo his first crush.

A shadow passed over Brienne’s eyes and quickly disappeared. “I met a lot of rich people at school,” she said, sounding nervous. Jaime wanted to press, ask what he was really thinking but he let the subject fall away.

Brienne started to fall asleep towards the end of the movie. He found himself engrossed in the story so when the credits rolled, he looked down at her peaceful face and regretted having to disturb her.

“Brienne—you should go to bed,” he said softly, shaking her shoulder, and she grunted at him, batting at his hands.

“Leave me alone, I’m sleeping,” she grumbled, clearly not awake. Resigning himself to having to be a bit more forceful, he lifted her from his lap to stand up. The movement must have shocked her awake because all of a sudden, he was slammed into the back of the couch a strong arm across his chest, Brienne’s eyes snapped open in front of his. She yanked her arm back. “Oh gods, I’m so sorry. You scared me.”

Jaime rubbed at his sternum, blood rushing in his ears. He was suddenly painfully aware of the quickly forming erection that would be completely unable to hide if he stood up. She was so  _strong_. He swallowed and tried to focus. “It’s ok. Lesson learned: don’t wake up Brienne. And if you have to, do it from a safe distance.”

She grimaced. “Are you ok?”

Jaime nodded and closed his eyes. He took several deep breaths until his  _problem_ went away. When he opened his eyes, Brienne was still staring at him, all concern. “I’m fine,” he said, feeling sufficiently calmed. He stood and switched on a light before ejecting the DVD.

“Do you need anything?” he asked. She was still looking at him in bewilderment, sleep perhaps still clinging to her.

“I’m gonna go to bed,” she said, not standing up. Her eyes went a bit blurry and she looked ready to pass out right where she was.

Coming up next to her, he pulled her against him, her face pressed into his chest. He dropped a kiss to her hair and said, “Take care of yourself, Brienne.”

“Mmhmm,” she mumbled, eyes closed. Jaime helped her up and led her to the bedroom. She collapsed into the bed, squirming under the sheets in a way that could hardly be efficient. As soon as she was covered, her eyes shut and she began to snore softly. Jaime snorted. Before he shut the door, a flash of green caught his eye. He took another step into the dim bedroom and saw the little green dinosaur he had given Brienne at the bowling alley sitting on her bedside table.

His heart did something unbearably strange in his chest and he had to tear himself away.

Jaime shut off all the lights in the living room and made sure the door was locked behind him. The streets were cold but inside he felt warm.


	4. Self Defense

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime asks Brienne to give him a self defense lesson.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> like just a smidgen of angst squeaked in but it doesnt last i swear! Only angst that leads to better fluff!  
> Friendly reminder that Cersei and Jaime have never had a romantic relationship in this AU! She's just his horrible sister :)

“Do you know, I feel rather left out from all this coupling,” Tyrion said sulkily as he surveyed the way Sansa sat next to Sandor and Brienne next to Jaime, even if she and Jaime were sitting much further apart than Sansa and Sandor, the former leaning against the scarred man and smiling wistfully.

“You’ve always got me,” Bronn said before tapping his beer against Tyrion’s.

“It’s not the same,” Tyrion said, sullen but returning the cheers. Brienne and Jaime exchanged a glance, but she looked away quickly when Jaime gave her one of his playful grins.

She’d been so thankful when he’d come over while she was sick. Not that she’d ever admit that to him. She could picture his smug response if she even hinted at how nice it had been to have him there. He’d texted her periodically the next day after she woke up, first with an image of a pile of her clothes on a ridiculously nice looking couch.

_Forgot i was wearing them._

Followed by

_You owe me a suit_

Brienne had wandered into the living room only to find Jaime’s suit jacket on the table and his pants and shirt in the bathroom. Bewildered, she texted back:

_How do you forget a_ **_suit_ **

_Your clothes are very comfortable ;)_

_Maybe i did it on purpose_ , Jaime said before she could type out a suitably acerbic reply.  _Maybe i wanted to make sure you had to see me again_

Brienne rolled her eyes even as her heart stuttered. He was incorrigible.

_You’re not that smooth_

With work and her responsibilities at the gym, they hadn’t had time to see each other since Jaime had come over. She thought of him often. While she was elbow deep in the printer, she thought about the way his hands felt in her hair. While she was responding to frustrated client emails, she thought about how he had looked in her threadbare shirt.

It was all very overwhelming.

When Sansa had told her that Tyrion wanted to get the group together again at the RK, Brienne’s nerves got the best of her. She hadn’t seen Jaime in a week. Texts or no, it was still hard for her to believe that someone as handsome as him—a  _Lannister_ of all things—would ever be interested in her. Too tall, too pale, too quiet Brienne Tarth who had spent her life pining after one handsome man after another only to have her heart stomped on again and again. At least Jaime seemed sincere.

 _For now_ , a little angry voice inside her whispered.

She ignored the voice as it rose up in her. Disquieted by her own thoughts, she stood and excused herself from the table, feeling Jaime’s eyes track her movements to the back of the bar.

In the bathroom, she looked at herself in the poorly lit dirty mirror as she washed her hands. She was a strong person, she always had been. Why couldn’t she handle the prospect of a man actually being interested in her?

“You  _can_ handle this,” she said to herself firmly. “You like him. He likes you.”

Still needing a little time to pull herself together, she went to the bar to order another beer just as the jukebox started it’s telltale skipping. Pod looked at her apologetically. “Could you fix that?”

She nodded and went over to the shake the jukebox into submission. She stalwartly did not look at the table, feeling self-conscious and worried that Jaime had watched her in all her hulking glory.

While waiting for Pod to pour her beer, a large man with red hair approached her. He was just as tall as she was, if not taller, and he had a dopey grin on his face. “You’re strong aren’t you? That was very impressive,” he said with a nod to the jukebox now playing the Beatles flawlessly. He had an accent she couldn’t quite place.

She blinked a few times as she gripped the cold glass of beer in her hand. “Thank you,” she said, not sure if she should engage with this particular stranger. He didn’t seem aggressive, only...interested.

“Hi, I’m Jaime,” Jaime said, appearing at her side before sticking his arm between Brienne and the large man.

The man looked between Jaime and Brienne and narrowed his eyes even as he shook Jaime’s proffered hand. “Tormund,” he grunted, his tone shifting from interest to dismissal.

“Is this your boyfriend?” Tormund asked Brienne, a note of disappointment in his voice.

Brienne glanced between Jaime and Tormund who were both looking at her expectantly and only managed a, “Um…”

Jaime’s face went taut but before he could speak his cellphone loudly began to buzz in his pocket, he looked at the screen and stepped away with a frustrated noise.

“Cersei—if you’re going to ask me to take the kids  _again_ —” his voice faded as he stepped away. Brienne’s stomach flipped:  _the_   _kids?_

She realized abruptly that she didn’t know anything about Jaime’s family. She knew Tyrion was his little brother, and based on some of Tyrion’s rather colorful commentary, that there father wasn’t a very nice person. Jaime was 37 and it was entirely plausible that he had been married before. That he could have kids. Brienne hadn’t even thought to ask, trusting him to be forthright with his history.

“Can I buy you a drink?” Tormund said, putting a stop to her racing thoughts as if Jaime hadn’t just interrupted their conversation.

“I just bought one,” Brienne said with a pointed glance at her beer. Tormund harrumphed.

“Well can I at least get your name?” he asked.

“Brienne,” she said, surprising herself by actually answering the man.

“A strong name for a strong woman. You look like you could hurt a man. Do you fight?” he asked frankly, his interest in her becoming steadily clearer with each statement. He had such an excited demeanor, his keen appraisal making her feel somehow special if a little uncomfortable.

“I teach self-defense,” she offered.

“I would love for you to teach me sometime,” he said, making the innocent words sound lascivious.

Brienne stood up, finally pushed past the point of feeling comfortable in what could have been construed as a friendly conversation. “Maybe.”

Jaime reappeared at her elbow and took her free hand in his. “Sorry sweetheart, family stuff,” he said and Brienne thought he was laying it on pretty thick. Which was saying something since Jaime always seemed to be ridiculously charming around other people. It was something Brienne really liked about him.

 “It was nice to meet you, Tormund,” she said over her shoulder as Jaime pulled her away.

Looking acutely disappointed, Tormund said, “You as well, Brienne.”

Jaime took her to a table away from the others and she looked at him with a frown.  _The kids_.

“When were you going to tell me you had kids?” she asked sharply. This was it, the other shoe dropping.

Jaime looked back at her, aghast. “I don’t have kids.”

“Who were you talking to on the phone? It sounded like—”

Jaime laughed, apparently relieved. “I was talking to my sister. She always tries to get me to take her kids on weekends. They’re good kids. But they’re not  _my_ kids.”

“Oh…” Brienne said, at a loss. She uncrossed her arms from where they had come up to unconsciously shield her body. “I misunderstood.”

“Clearly,” Jaime said. He looked her up and down and she felt the urge to shrink. Instead, she forced herself to stand up taller.

“How was  _Tormund_ , he seemed quite taken with you.”

Brienne frowned, an unbelievable idea striking her. “Are you _jealous_?”

The mere prospect of it seemed ridiculous.

Jaime sucked in a deep breath. “What if I am?” he replied and Brienne could practically see his hackles rising. She wondered what had happened to make him sensitive to this. He hadn’t seemed the jealous type; he had nothing to be insecure about.

Instead of asking, she said carefully, “Well, you shouldn’t be. I’m here with you, not anyone else.”

Jaime deflated and rubbed at his forehead with a sigh. “Sorry. Of course not. I’m being ridiculous, aren’t I?”

“Yes,” Brienne agreed, raising an eyebrow. Her simple reply shocked a laugh from Jaime whose eyes took on their normal mischievous gleam.

They returned to the table and were greeted by a very interested Tyrion.

“Did I see a gentleman courting our sweet Brienne?” he asked, getting that same twinkle in his eye that Jaime did when he was about to tease her about something.

Sandor snorted and Jaime laughed too. “Apparently, he likes women who can fight. Heard him say it myself,” Jaime said, leaning into Tyrion like they shared a secret.

“Oh like you fucking don’t,” Bronn said. “You saw this one over here lift that jukebox and nearly came in your fifteen hundred dollar trousers.”

Tyrion choked on his beer and had to pound on his chest to clear it. Brienne looked between Bronn, who was smirking, and Jaime, who was glaring back at him.

“Brienne  _can_  actually fight though. She’s very good,” Sansa interjected. “She’s taught me a little.”

“You should teach me,” Jaime said, leaning forward to place his elbows on the table.

“You don’t know how to fight?” Brienne asked with a dubious squint in his direction.

“We’re rich kids, why would we have to fight?” Tyrion answered for him and Jaime just gestured at Tyrion as if to say  _what he said._

“I heard that oaf at the bar ask for lessons. If you’re willing to teach him, why not me?”

Brienne frowned at him. “I only said that to shut him up.”

“If I were you, I’d say yes. It’d feel good to kick his ass,” Bronn said from across the table. Jaime threw a balled up napkin at him.

And so, after much haranguing by Jaime via text— _come on Brienne. Teach me. Teach meeeeee. I bet you teach in yoga pants. I’d love to see you in yoga pants_ —Brienne found herself on Tuesday evening in the matted studio of the gym that employed her for her weekly self defense classes, standing across from Jaime who looked stupidly handsome even in his workout clothes. The bright fluorescent lights of the studio shone off his hair and somehow made his skin look healthier. She was sure she looked pallid and sickly in comparison.

“How does this work?” Jaime asked, following her lead as they went through a series of stretches. It felt good to move her body after a long day at her desk. She wondered if Jaime felt the same.

“So how much do you know about self defense?” Brienne asked.

Jaime stood up from his hamstring stretch and said, “That you use it to defend yourself.”

Brienne rolled her eyes. “Yes, but have you ever practiced it before?”

Jaime shook his head so Brienne started with the basics, how to use your weight to make it difficult to be moved, a basic punch, the soft spots to aim for if you’re in trouble. To her surprise, Jaime took to it like a duck to water, his basic level of athleticism serving him well in learning how to move his body like she showed him.

She gave Jaime handheld pads used for practicing punches and shook out her arms as she watched him wriggle his fingers inside. “So I’m going to punch your hands. Watch my form and then we’ll switch.”

Jaime licked his lips and stayed silent, holding up his hands in front of himself and lowering his center of gravity to brace for impact. Brienne started slow, striking the pads with her closed fists but only about a quarter of her strength.

After a few alternating hits, Jaime pulled away. “You can do way better than that.”

“Who’s the instructor here?” Brienne asked archly before hitting one of Jaime’s half lowered hands. The pad bonked his leg and he looked at her, faux-affronted.

“How dare you hit a man with his guard down?”

“Self DEFENSE,” Brienne said and brought her fist down again.

He wacked her with a padded fist and she jumped back.

“Defense, Brienne! Defense!” he yelled, hitting her again. She started laughing as he continued to patter half-hearted blows on her. Finally, she fought back and grabbed both of his hands. Jaime froze under her grip.

“All right, enough. You child,” she admonished, shaking her head and still laughing.

She looked up and their eyes locked. The mirth fell from Jaime’s face slowly and his gaze flickered, something heated chasing the humor from his expressive features.

She pulled away. “You now,” she said brusquely, yanking the pads off of Jaime’s hand and pulling them onto her own.

He stood still while she prepared, tracking her with his eyes.

His punches, while unpracticed, were well aimed and strong and she told him so. Whatever strangeness that had passed between them had faded and he gave her a bright grin when she said he was doing pretty well for a first-timer.

Discarding the gloves on her hands, Brienne shrugged on a padded vest and said, “All right, I want you to try to restrain me.”

She gestured for him to come behind her and when his arms went around her body, her focus narrowed entirely on getting away, just as she taught her classes. Pulling on his forearms, she broke his hold and spun on him, twisting his arm until his back was to her before using her superior strength to push him roughly away. She heard his sharp intake of breath as he stumbled forward and she apologized quickly, “Did I hurt you?”

Jaime stayed facing away from her and said, his voice slightly choked, “Um, no. I’m fine.”

Eyeing his back warily, she said, “If I do, let me know. It’s a risk of the class but you have to communicate with me so neither of us get injured.”

Jaime nodded jerkily.

“Your turn,” she said as she handed him the padded vest meant to protect him from her prying hands. She wrapped her arms around him and yanked him against her. She could feel him shift his weight, pulling her forward and to the right to shake her off. She dug her feet into the mat but his unexpected movement quickly made her lose her balance and she went tumbling forward, taking Jaime down with her.

Breathing hard, she tried to recover the wind that had been knocked from her, she looked at Jaime where he was splayed across her abdomen and smiled at him. “Good. A little haphazard but good.”

Jaime brought himself up onto his arms and stared at her, his eyes as wide as she had ever seen them. With the adrenaline of their exercise fading, Brienne became acutely aware of something hard pressing into her thigh. She willed herself to not look down, but she felt her face growing red.

She’d never—this had never—

“Gods,” Jaime said, his head dropping to her shoulder. She could feel his measured inhales and exhales as if he were trying to calm himself down. “You’re amazing.”

Full of shock and no little amount of trepidation, Brienne scrambled out from underneath him, tossing him away from her in a motion that she immediately regretted. He grunted when his back hit the mat and Brienne rushed to his side. “Jaime,” she said, her hands on his shoulders. “I’m sorry. I should have been more careful and not just thrown you like that.”

He looked at her for the briefest moment, eyes shining with something Brienne didn’t recognize, before saying, “I think I like it when you throw me around.”

Surprised, Brienne lost her balance and fell back on her ass as Jaime sat up, laughing ruefully. “You don’t have to look so shocked, you know,” he said, looking her directly in the eye. Something in his gaze made her realize he wasn’t joking. This wasn’t him needling her or trying to get a rise out of her. In fact, he looked...almost embarrassed.

Absolutely unsure of how to reply, Brienne stood and decided to change the subject. “You said you’d buy me dinner after this,” she said. “I would like if you did.”

Jaime’s smile was genuine but he looked a little contrite. “If you want to go to the locker room, I’ll meet you outside the gym.”

She started to ask why he wouldn’t walk out with her but he continued, “I need a little time for things to, uh, settle down, as it were.”

Feeling her earlier blush spread from her cheeks down her neck, she rushed from the room and scrubbed her way through a quick locker room shower. Jaime was...Jaime had really...

As promised, Jaime met her outside the gym after his own shower, slightly damp hair brushing the red scarf tucked into his coat, his breaths a series of white puffs in front of him. They walked a while—Jaime leading her to what he referred to as “the best Northern restaurant in the South”—until Jaime broke the silence. “I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable. At the gym.”

Brienne tucked her nose into the high collar of her jacket and said, muffled into the material, “It’s fine.”

Jaime stopped and turned to her, a hand on her forearm and a serious look in his eye. “It didn’t seem fine earlier. I like you, Brienne. But I need you to tell me if something is too much. I don’t know how you—I don’t want to push you when you’re clearly uncomfortable.”

“Why?” she asked, as they shuffled out of the way of foot traffic, closer to the wall of the convenience store behind Jaime, it’s lit sign flickering over their heads.

“Do you  _want_ me to push you?” Jaime asked, incredulous.

Brienne shook her head. “No. Why do you—why  _do_  you like me, Jaime?”

It felt like flaying herself open to say the words, her chest burning in fear and shame that she was so insecure as to have to ask.

Confusion clouded his green eyes so Brienne pushed herself to continue. “I’m not an idiot. I know men don’t like women taller than them, women stronger than them. Especially not men as handsome as you.”

Jaime’s mouth twisted in dark humor. “Correct me if I’m wrong Brienne, but didn’t a man—not three days ago—hit on you at the Red Keep? He wasn’t the first and he probably won’t be the last. We don’t choose how we feel or who we are interested in and I’m interested in you. Let me be. Or else this is over before it even begins.”

Brienne nodded, her throat feeling tight. It wasn’t the sweet or particularly but it was forthright and it made her feel like a weight had been lifted. He was right. He liked her, she liked him, and it was worth it.

Jaime took her hand and wrapped it in his before tucking it into his coat pocket. As they turned down the street to continue walking he said, “You think I’m handsome?”

Now he was definitely trying to needle her.

“I think you’re very _vain_ ,” she shot back.

He bumped her elbow with his and then squeezed her hand. “Did you know no one has ever accused me of that before?”

“I like spending time with you, Jaime,” she announced. He looked over at her with a surprised satisfaction that turned quickly to suspicion when she continued, “It’s done wonders for my eyes. Rolling them so much has really strengthened them.”

“Oh-ho-ho. Very funny, Tarth,” he said, smiling.

Brienne liked that. Making him smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i keep asking myself how and why im writing a UST story where the two characters are already dating smh
> 
> PS all this self defense stuff is from a class i took like 5 years ago so the knowledge is outdated and half forgotten
> 
> Also, i do not endorse the opinions brienne shares about herself. obviously haha


	5. Ice Cream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne sees Jaime's apartment for the first time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as i said in the last chapter, Jaime never had a romantic relationship with cersei in this story (i did not want to deal with incest), however i felt it was important to give him a little bit of past heartbreak because some of that lack of trust in relationships is central to his relationship with brienne i think. that being said i just mushed some characters around to achieve that.
> 
> based on that, consider this chapter angst light and sweetness heavy.

_Still on for dinner and a movie?_

The text beeped through and Jaime tossed the invitation in his hand onto the kitchen island. It skidded across the white tiled top and came to a stop when it hit the fruit bowl.

 _Could we maybe rain check,_ he typed out before deleting it. He didn’t want to cancel on Brienne, but part of him also wanted to lie on his couch and wallow. He picked up the invitation again.

_You are cordially invited to attend the marriage of Elia Martell and Rhaegar Targaryen. RSVP at your earliest convenience._

His stomach turned. He knew Elia had invited him out of some twisted sense of victory. _See Jaime, I’m getting married before you._ He resisted the urge to crumple the expensive paper in his hand.

 _Would you maybe be interested in coming over instead of going out,_ he typed out, each letter an angry smash into his screen.

Brienne’s response came back more quickly than normal. She must have been waiting on her phone. _Whatever works. I was looking forward to seeing you_

Jaime smiled down at the text. He wondered how much Brienne had to work herself up to send something so sweet.

 _Me too_ , he replied.

He texted her his address with an invite to come over whenever she was ready. He tapped his fingers against the counter and then was struck by the realization that he had just invited Brienne to his apartment. He went into the living room and grimaced at the disarray. He usually paid a maid service to clean his apartment once a week. Unfortunately, they didn’t come on Fridays.

He picked up the coasters strewn across the end table and coffee table and put them in their caddy. Then he gathered his coats and suit jackets which he had sprawled across various surfaces, hanging the coats in the closet and putting the suit jackets in his bedroom. He contemplated tossing them on the bed and then decided he’d rather be safe than sorry and hung them up in his closet. It wasn’t as if he expected to end up in the bedroom but if they did he’d regret leaving his things around.

He got a sponge and wiped down the coffee table. After a little more hunting and gathering, he deposited a few cups and dishes into the dishwasher and surveyed his work. It wasn’t sparkling but it was neat. He thought Brienne would approve.

When he opened the door to Brienne shortly after, she held up a bag in front of him. “Suit,” she said, thrusting it at him. He took it, fumbling slightly, and then set it on the entryway table.

“Come in,” he said, taking in every powerful inch of her as she walked in, shaking the swiftly melting snow from her hair. In her purple puffed jacket she looked somehow larger and it was unbearably adorable.

“How expensive is this place?” she asked, eyes wide as she looked over his apartment. Jaime tried to remember the cost on the lease but failed so he shrugged.

“You don’t know do you?” she said, seeing right through him. “You probably have auto payments set up and it just deducts from a checking account you never even look at.”

He gave her a tentative smile, called out. She approached him and poked him in the chest. “Rich. Kid,” she declared.

Her teasing tone and the full attention of her brilliant eyes made his breath catch. Without a thought, he pulled her against him into a tight hug. She smelled like the ocean, earthen and fresh.

For a moment, she stood stock still and then her hands came up behind him, returning the embrace. “Jaime—are you all right?”

“What? Can’t I hug you?” he said, his voice muffled in her shoulder.

“You _can_. You just haven’t before.”

Brienne pulled back and he reluctantly released her. “I’ve got to take off my coat,” she said, unzipping the puffy thing and shrugging it off.

He took it from her and hung it in the hall closet. When he turned around she was wandering into his living room, running her hands over the back of his sofa as she crossed to the floor to ceiling windows. He heard her intake of breath.

“This is a beautiful view,” she said and Jaime followed her gaze. He supposed it did have a certain charm, the twinkling lights of the city flashing back at them, an endless sea obscured only by the falling snow.

“I suppose it is,” he replied.

They went into the kitchen and Brienne asked, “So what’s for dinner?”

Jaime realized that, in his hurry to clean the apartment, he had forgotten about food. “Um…”

Brienne looked at him, unimpressed. “Do you have _any_ food in the house?”

Jaime usually subsisted on leftover takeout and the meals prepped by the chef he employed. He sent the man a silent thank you when Brienne opened the fridge and found it decently stocked. She hummed and then opened a few cupboards, pulled out a box, and then said, “Do you have pots and pans?”

Jaime at least knew enough to point her in the right direction. “I hope pasta is ok. You have tomatoes, olives, and noodles so we can make something simple,” she said as she filled a pot with water. She turned the burner of the stove on high before setting it on the flame.

With his help, she located two cutting boards and put Jaime to work dicing olives. When she pulled a second tomato from the bowl on the counter, her eyes fell on the paper Jaime had thrown down before her arrival. She picked it up, her eyes scanning the fancy script.

“Is your friend getting married?” she asked, holding it up.

Jaime scoffed, his knife stilling. “I wouldn’t say friend.”

Brienne frowned and Jaime looked at her. “It’s my ex. She’s getting married.”

Brienne dropped the paper into the spill of tomato juice on her cutting board. “Why would your _ex_ invite you to her wedding?” she asked, horrified.

“Because she’s a bitch,” Jaime answered coldly, directing his attention back to the olives.

The water on the stove rumbled its low boil and Brienne poured in the penne she had unearthed from the cupboard. “Is this why you’re upset?” she asked quietly, not looking at him.

“I’m not upset.”

“You seem upset,” Brienne said turning around, a fierce expression on her face.

Jaime cut the last olive and dropped his knife. He sighed. He’d have to tell Brienne eventually. It was what you were supposed to do in relationships when you wanted them to be serious. Share your past. “Elia was my first long term relationship. My _only_ long term relationship. We were together for five years. I loved her. I thought I was going to marry her.

“When I asked my father for my mother’s wedding ring so I could propose, he laughed and said that I might want to talk to Cersei before going through with it. Cersei and Elia were best friends—they still are—and apparently, Elia had been—Elia had been sleeping around for the last three years of our relationship. Three years and I hadn’t even noticed. Cersei knew. My _father_ knew. When I confronted her, she told me she had only stayed with me because she wanted to marry rich. She thought I was an idiot. And now she’s marrying a Targaryen so she got what she wanted,” he finished ruefully, his chest burning.

Brienne was staring at him, her blue eyes shining with sympathetic tears. “That’s awful, Jaime.”

“It happened a long time ago,” he said, shaking his head.

She crossed the kitchen and put her hands on his face, lifting it to look at her. “Just because it happened a long time ago doesn’t mean it doesn’t still hurt. You loved her and she hurt you and I’m sorry that happened. You didn’t deserve it.”

Jaime felt like his throat was closing and he had to look away. The timer went off and Brienne dropped her hands before going to strain the pasta. They put together the rest of the dinner in silence; pasta tossed with vegetables in olive oil and salt.

They ate at the kitchen table, Brienne seemingly deep in thought and Jaime watching her carefully. “Are you going to go to the wedding?” she asked finally.

Jaime pursed his lips and stabbed at a wayward noodle. “Maybe. I don’t know.”

“You should go,” she said, firm as ever.

Jaime raised an eyebrow. “I should?”

“There’s something to be said for subtle revenge,” she replied. “Show up. Look good. Be fine. Congratulate her. It’ll give you closure. And also rub her face in how well you’re doing.”

Jaime’s other eyebrow joined the first. “Why does it sound like you’re speaking from experience?”

Brienne shrugged. “Take my advice or don’t. You’re a good person and she’s not. Go show her.”

Jaime considered that for a moment, overwhelmed by the full force of Brienne’s belief in him. Sometimes it felt like they’d known each other longer than the four weeks they had been dating. He liked that about her. About them. “I’ll think about it. How’s that?”

“It’s all I can ask,” Brienne said before standing and collecting their plates.

Jaime helped her clean up in the kitchen, she rinsed the plates while he loaded the dishwasher. As she dried her hands on the plaid kitchen towel, he declared, “I want ice cream.”

Brienne looked at him like he was crazy. “Jaime, it’s snowing.”

“Why does that prevent me from eating ice cream?” he asked, leaning against the counter.

“Because it’s _cold_ . When it’s snowing you’re supposed drink hot beverages and eat warm foods, not _ice cream_.”

“What if I said that I am actually very upset and ice cream is the only thing that will cheer me up?” he asked, a grin spreading over his face as Brienne began to look unsure.

“I know you’re manipulating me,” she said, trying to look stern.

“Is it working?” he asked. She sighed.

“Fine. But if there isn’t an ice cream place on this block we are getting convenience store ice cream and I won’t hear any complaints. Ok?” she said, eyeballing him warily as if expecting him to argue.

“Well good news, there _is_ an ice cream place on the corner. They also sell donuts and brownies if it’s too _cold_ for ice cream.”

They bundled up slowly, Jaime forcing her to take a pair of his gloves because she didn’t bring any.

They shuffled through the swiftly falling snow down the block to an ice cream shop simply named _The Creamery._  Jaime ordered a waffle cone of chocolate peanut butter and Brienne finally decided on coffee fudge swirl.

“How is it?” Jaime asked when they sat down at one of the small tables by the window. The glass radiated cool air and he was glad they had kept their jackets on.

“Really good,” Brienne admitted sullenly.

“So I’m right? Ice cream is always good?” he asked, a laugh behind his words.

“Yes, yes. You’re right. Don’t get too excited,” she said, scraping the container and placing the spoon face down on her tongue. Jaime liked the way the cold brought color high on her cheeks, not the usual crimson blush, but a light thing that complemented the blue of her eyes.

They stayed at the ice cream shop until the attendant at the counter cleared his throat pointedly making Jaime realize that it was nearly 9 PM and they were keeping the shop open. He’d gotten so caught up in their conversation about superheros—well more of a debate really. He thought Magneto was an antihero and Brienne firmly called him a villain—that he’d lost track of time. Quickly pulling on his gloves, he apologized to the man behind the counter and put a 20 in the tip jar.

In their distraction, neither of them had noticed how quickly the snow had started to fall, more than an  inch had accumulated during the hour or so since they had gone into the shop. Jaime regretted not bringing a hat. It’s only a block, he told himself, taking Brienne’s gloved hand in his.

“I can’t _believe_ you think Magneto is sympathetic. Regardless of his past, he still does evil things,” Brienne said vehemently, ignoring the howling wind to continue their conversation.

Jaime looked over at her with a smile. The cold made her eyes shine and he felt a desperate need to be closer to her. “Can I kiss you?” he asked, the question a breathless thing in his mouth.

Brienne’s mouth clicked shut and she turned to him, frozen in the falling snow. He surged up on his toes and tugged her down to meet his mouth, her hair tangled in his fingers. Her lips were soft if slightly chapped, cold against his own. She tasted like sweet coffee and chocolate and she sighed against him as his heart beat out an unfamiliar rhythm in his chest.

He came back down on his heels, reluctantly pulling away. If he pushed too hard he knew they’d be in some alleyway making out and that wasn’t exactly how he imagined moving their physical relationship forward. When he tilted his head to look at her, Brienne’s eyes were still half shut, lashes fluttering against her cheeks before her eyes opened. He tugged on her hand, “Let’s get inside.”

She trailed behind him silently the rest of the way down the block.

She followed him to the elevator and then up to his apartment where he opened the door for her and then took her coat. He hung them up as she sat down on the couch, still appearing shellshocked.

“Want to watch something?” he offered. “I can also get you a drink if you’re in the mood for a nightcap.”

“How about both?”

“Whiskey ok?” he asked crossing to the bar cart close to the TV.

She hummed a noise of agreement so he gave them a health pour. “I prefer mine neat but can get you ice if you’d like.”

“Neat is good.”

“Warms the blood,” he replied, unconsciously quoting his father. He grimaced.

Brienne took the tumbler and tucked her long legs up under her body. She yelped and slammed them back to the ground, the whiskey sloshing dangerously. She put down the cup and looked down at her pants. Even from a distance, Jaime could tell they were wet.

“Lucky for you, I happen to have a set of a certain woman’s clothes,” Jaime said, going into his bedroom and returning with the clothes she had lent him a few weeks prior.

Before Jaime could even point her to the bathroom, Brienne stood and shucked off her pants, exposing her pale thighs. She kicked the offending garment away and then yanked the sweatpants from his hands, pulling them up over her knees before Jaime could even really get a good look. She resettled into the couch, successfully tucking up her feet with a satisfied noise.

She looked up at Jaime and shock overtook her serene expression. “I should have changed in the bathroom, shouldn’t I?”

Jaime broke down cackling. “I’m not going to complain, but I can’t say you didn’t surprise me.”

She picked up her tumbler and sipped at this whiskey, ignoring his comment. “This is good,” she said.

“You think I’d give you cheap whiskey?” Jaime said, pretending to be offended as he sat down next to her.

“What do you want to watch?” he asked. “I refuse to watch any of those terrible home improvement shows. Oh wait! I’ve got an idea!” he cried, grabbing the remote and pulling up a show Tyrion had once made him watch. It was some antiquing thing where you watched people bring old weird things to be appraised.

“Antiques Roadshow?” she asked incredulously. “You watch this?”

“Well I don’t, but I thought you’d like it.”

“I do like it,” she said, looking both pleased and embarrassed. Jaime went to turn on the show but he wasn’t able to when the remote fell from his hand as Brienne launched herself at him, strong legs straddling his lap and the taste of whiskey on her lips.

Jaime groaned into her mouth as she moved it over his, her strong hands gripping his shoulders so tightly he could feel her nails and gods, he _liked_ it. Her kisses were fumbling like she hadn’t kissed someone in a while—or ever, a voice in his head whispered—but when he traced her mouth with his tongue, she made a noise in the back of throat and kissed him harder.

He pulled away. “Don’t you want to watch the show?” he asked with a smirk.

“I want you to shut up,” Brienne replied, her voice low. His cock twitched at the authoritarian edge to her tone. She descended on him again and he ran his hands up her back, reveling in the feel of firm muscle under his fingers and bucked up against her, grinding his pelvis against hers.

That must have shocked her, because she pulled away with a gasp and tucked her face into his neck, breathing hard. “Is it ok if we stop?”

“Of course it’s ok,” he said, the hands rubbing her back no longer passionate, only soothing.

“I got carried away,” she said and he could feel her smile against his skin as if she were laughing at herself.

“You’re not the only one. I’ve been thinking about kissing you since that night at the bowling alley. Glad it finally happened,” he said and she tipped back to look him in the eye as if to gauge his sincerity. If he thought she looked good in the snow, it had nothing on the way she looked then, her short hair slightly mussed, lips red and cheeks flushed—he had done that. He had to keep himself from pulling her back against him, laying them down on the sofa, kissing his way down her neck…

“I haven’t kissed a lot of people,” she admitted. She climbed off his lap and took her whiskey back in hand.

“That’s ok,” he said, reaching out to squeeze her knee.

“I’ve never slept with anyone before either,” she said, even quieter.

“That’s ok too,” Jaime said, not entirely surprised but not wanting to offend her. “You can set the pace. Hells, we can make out on my couch until our infirmity and I won’t be disappointed.”

Brienne made a disbelieving noise but said, “Antiques time.”

Jaime looked at her for a moment, not sure if he should say anything else, but he let the subject drop. By the end of a single episode, Jaime’s vision got blurry around the edges. It had been a long day and the whiskey had relaxed him. Brienne noticed and stood. “I guess I should head home.”

Jaime looked out the window and frowned at the still falling snow. “You shouldn’t walk in this,” he said.

“I can take the train—” Brienne broke off as she looked at her watch. “Oh, I missed the last one. I can just get a cab.”

“I also don’t think you, or anyone else, should be driving. Just stay.”

Brienne’s hands fluttered in front of her for a moment before she settled her arms across her chest. “I can take care of myself, Jaime.”

“I’m not saying you can’t, I’d just feel a lot better knowing you weren’t out in all this.”

Brienne looked like she wanted to argue but she looked outside again and then nodded. “Ok fine. I can sleep on the couch.”

Disappointed she didn't want to share his bed but not wanting to push her—especially after that makeout session—he agreed though he’d rather she didn’t stay on the _couch_ of all places. “You can take the bed—”

Brienne glared at him and he knew he’d already lost that argument. “Fine. I’ll get you some sheets and blankets.”

Hovering around her while she put the sheets on the couch—he’d tried but she’d promptly taken them away when he failed at tucking it in tightly enough—Jaime made sure she was settled before going to his own room. “Thanks for having me over, Jaime,” he heard Brienne say in the living room.

“Anytime.”


	6. Valentine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime and Brienne celebrate Valentine's Day!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i dont care if they dont have valentines day in GoT universe, they have it in THIS universe!

Brienne woke up to a clattering in the kitchen. Momentarily disoriented she realized she was still on Jaime’s couch. She stretched her stiff muscles. Comfortable as Jaime’s couch was, it was still a _couch._

“Wakey wakey, eggs and bakey!” Jaime called from the kitchen and Brienne sat up, laughing at his chipper tone as she rubbed the sleep from her eyes.

Jaime appeared through the kitchen doorway and set a plastic platter heaping with pancakes on the table. “That doesn't look like eggs and bacon,” Brienne pointed out.

“I thought ‘wakey wakey, pancakey-cakey’ sounded silly,” Jaime said over his shoulder before returning with plates and syrup.

Brienne snorted. “That’s true.”

She smacked her dry lips together and wished for a toothbrush, or at least some water. Jaime stood by the table, surveying his spread and then looked up at her. “Do you want coffee?”

“That would be great,” she said. Settling in at the table, she looked out over the city, some of the building were coated in white and the gray sky was bright with the reflected light of fallen snow.

She helped herself to a couple of pancakes and then stopped before looking at Jaime suspiciously. “Did you make these?”

“I’ll have you know I make a very good pancake,” he said when he reappeared from the kitchen, coffee cups in hand.

Brienne took a tentative bite. “Tastes like pancakes,” she announced as Jaime placed a steaming cup of coffee in front of her.

“That’s the general idea,” he said with a smirk.

“You’re full of surprises.” She grabbed the syrup and poured a modest amount in a zig zag pattern over her plate.

“I’m a complex man,” Jaime replied gregariously, cutting the ones already on his plate and dunking them in the pile of syrup he had poured onto his plate. “Devastatingly handsome”—she snorted—“a brilliant architect, and pancake maker extraordinaire.”

“I’m very proud of you,” Brienne said indulgently and Jaime tossed a pancake at her. It slapped her in the chest and fell into her lap with a ‘plop.’

“You did not just do that,” she said, gaping at him. Jaime pointed at himself with his knife as if to say _who me?_ and Brienne narrowed her eyes at him. She picked up the pancake from her lap and hurled it back at him, slapping him right in his smug face.

As the pancake slid down his cheek, their eyes locked. Brienne lunged for the plate of pancakes in the middle of the table just as Jaime reached out to snag another, undoubtedly to retaliate. She held the plate above her head and said, “No food fights.”

Jaime stood and came around the table forcing Brienne to stand as well. She used her full height to hold the plate aloft and out of his reach. He tried to match her height and then sighed, slumping down. “Why do you have to be so bloody tall,” he grumbled.

“I’m tall so men like you don’t get too full of themselves,” she replied primly before upending the plate of pancakes over his head and tossing the platter aside to jump over the couch and hide. She couldn’t believe herself. What was it about Jaime that made her throw caution to the wind? He made it so easy to laugh. To _play._

Jaime stood immobile before turning slowly, a pancake still clinging to his sleep mussed hair. “Oh you did it now, Tarth,” he said, his voice dangerously low.

He followed her leap over the couch and grabbed her where she was squatted in a poor attempt to avoid his pursuit. She shrieked as he pulled her down to the ground, strong fingers digging into her ribs. She tried to squirm away from his tickling but he had the upper hand in the confined space. He hit a particularly ticklish spot and she cried out, kicking her leg and knocking the coffee table away. With more room to maneuver she flipped them and grabbed Jaime’s wrists, forcing his hands above his head.

“No tickling either,” she said, her chest heaving, hair a wild tangle about her face. Jaime had gone limp beneath her, eyes blown so wide they looked black. The desire to kiss him surged through her, strong enough that she regretted not asking for that toothbrush. Instead of giving in, she released him and fell to the side.

“You’ve still got pancake on you,” she said lamely. Jaime looked down at his chest and started laughing at the mashed bits of pancake stuck to his t-shirt. He sat up and Brienne saw even more crumbs strewn over his rug.

Together they picked up the half a dozen pancakes from the ground by the table, Jaime occasionally swatting her with one when she wasn’t paying attention and then pretending he hadn’t done anything when she turned to glare at him.

Covered in bits of pancake and in desperate need of a shower, she made her excuses to Jaime who looked a little disappointed she was leaving.

“I suppose you can’t stay here all day? Throw some more pancakes around?” Jaime asked hopefully.

Brienne gathered all her resolve and then dropped a quick kiss on his cheek. When he grinned back at her, she felt something warm glow in her chest. “I have to shower. And do laundry. And go shopping.”

“That all sounds very boring,” Jaime replied, his eyes shining.

“Well, we can’t all pay people to do the boring stuff for us,” Brienne said. “Besides, I like it. Keeps me busy.”

Jaime shook his head as he led her out of his apartment. “Text me when you get home. And stay warm,” he admonished, pushing the gloves she had borrowed the night before back into her hands.

She pulled them on, reveling in how they fit just right. She zipped up her jacket but before she could leave, Jaime turned her around and came up on his toes to brush his lips across hers, chaste and quick. She sucked in a breath. How could such a brief contact make her heart race?

“I had a great time last night,” he said, expression sharp as he met her eyes

She could feel a smile break out over her face and she said, “I’ll see you later, Jaime.”

**

Brienne got to work on Monday, feeling happier than she had in awhile. It wasn’t as if she had been miserable before but having Jaime in her life brought a certain joy, the little ping of excitement when she saw his name flash across her phone, the anticipation of their dates. It was something Brienne knew from her early dates with Renly before that had fallen apart.

She tried not to think on that too much.

Around 10 AM, Sansa came out of her office and leaned against the doorjamb. “What are you getting Jaime for Valentine’s day?”

The question was a bucket of cold water on her previously warm mood. Not waiting for an answer Sansa continued, “I’ve been trying to figure out what to get for Sandor but it’s hard. We’ve only be dating a little over a month and I want to get something _nice_ but I don’t want it to be too personal since I don’t want to make him uncomfortable.”

Brienne looked at her blankly.

Sansa stopped talking and then frowned. “You forgot about Valentine’s Day, didn’t you?”

Brienne wasn’t sure what to say. It wasn’t as if she’d had reason to celebrate the holiday before and when the forced Valentine exchange in school had ended, she had happily pretended a holiday that’s sole purpose was romance didn’t exist. After all, what had she had to celebrate?

“Yes?” she said. She dropped her head into her hands. “It’s this Thursday, isn’t it?”

Sansa nodded, but her concerned face quickly brightened. “Actually, this is great! We can brainstorm gifts together. Grab your things, let’s go get lunch.”

Brienne’s mind was whirling with possibilities. What did you get the richest person you knew?

They ended up at a little cafe across the street and Sansa hummed as Brienne scraped her spoon along the side of her bowl of tomato soup.

Sansa pulled out a notepad and pencil from her purse and then tucked her long red hair behind her ears, eyes serious. “Ok so there’s the usual: candy, cards, flowers.”

Brienne nodded as Sansa scribbled those down. “I think flowers are out right?”

“Well, I don’t think Sandor would like them, but do you think Jaime would?” Sansa asked earnestly, turning her full attention to Brienne.

Brienne pictured how Jaime would react if a bouquet of flowers showed up on his desk. Even in her mind she could see him cracking up and sending her a flurry of texts about how delightfully ridiculous it was. “Mark it down as a maybe.”

Sansa put a little star next to it. “So usually I’ve done some small gift like candy and then a more sentimental gift like something they need or that reminded me of them. And that’s where I’m stuck. I don’t want to just get Sandor a wallet or something I’d get my _dad_. It’s got to have a romantic flair!” she declared, jamming her pen into the pad of paper as if to make her point.

Brienne sucked on her teeth, considering. “What about a shirt or something? Like something you think would look nice on him? He only ever wears those giant t-shirts.”

Sansa tapped the pen against her lips. “That’s a good idea. Considerate but not too serious. Functional but still personal. What about Jaime?”

Brienne thought through everything she saw at his apartment and came up empty. “I think Jaime just buys whatever he needs.”

“Maybe you could make him something?” Sansa suggested. Brienne grimaced. She wasn’t very crafty. “What about drawing him something?”

Now _that_ Brienne could do.

**

That night Brienne sat at her desk with her colored pencils at the ready just as a text came through on her phone.

_What do you want to do for Valentine’s day_

Brienne was absurdly thankful that Sansa had brought it up earlier. If she had seen Jaime’s text without warning, she would have freaked out.

_Whatever’s fine_

_-_-_

Brienne laughed at the little stern face.

_You have to pick, Tarth. That’s part of the deal_

_What deal? I didn’t sign any deal_

He sent another straightfaced emoji.

_What if I say that I pick you picking?_

_That’s cheating_

Her phone rang in her hand and she nearly dropped it. Recovering quickly she answered and held it up to her ear.

“Do you really not have a preference?” Jaime asked. Brienne liked the way his voice sounded over the phone, like he was always smiling.

“I’ve never really done the whole Valentine’s thing,” Brienne answered quickly before she could be embarrassed by the admission.

“Well, then, I’ll just have to show you what you’ve been missing,” Jaime said, a wicked edge to his tone immediately making Brienne worry.

“Jaime—don’t do anything ridiculous,” Brienne warned with a scowl.

“I never do anything ridiculous.”

Brienne made an indignant noise.

“Toodles, Brienne. I have planning to do,” he said brightly before hanging up. Brienne stared down at her phone, regretting that she hadn’t just suggested something.

Putting the rather unnerving conversation from her mind, she refocused on the paper in front of her and got to work.

**

Brienne woke up on Thursday to a message on her phone filled with at least fifty hearts. It took up the whole screen. A second message followed:

_Happy Thursday, Valentine_

Brienne swallowed, overwhelmed suddenly. If the whole day was going to be like this, she might actually cry. Pushing away the emotions, she got in the shower and then put on her favorite blouse. It made her shoulders look broad but in a strong way that she liked.

When she got to work there were two packages waiting for her at the door, both addressed to her from Jaime. She tentatively picked them up and put them on her desk before getting the office ready, turning on the lights and setting the coffee brewing. Sansa liked coming in at 9 but Brienne was an early riser, happy to get a little work done in the empty office.

Nervously she approached the boxes. One was long and white, wrapped in red cellophane and the other was a small square. She opened the small one first. Inside was a box of chocolates, clearly expensive, but not extravagant. She popped the lid off and the aroma of good chocolate reached her nose. Her mouth watered.

Too early for chocolate, she reminded herself, putting the box down.

The second box took a little longer to open and when she did, she gasped.

_Did you send me a DRESS_

_Do you like it_

_Its beautiful but its way too much_

She pulled the soft sapphire colored dress out of the box, admiring the one shoulder cut and the way it looked like it would hug her body.

_Wear it to dinner tonight_

_Jaime_

_Please?_

She sighed, already knowing she was going to give in. She had no idea why she had expected Jaime to do anything but go way overboard.

When Sansa got in she cooed over the dress, impressed that Jaime had chosen something that would suit her so well.

“I haven’t even put it on yet,” she said, a little sullen, even as she felt that glow inside her grow brighter.

At noon a text came through:

_My assistant is laughing at me_

Brienne grinned.

_You got my flowers?_

_They are quite lovely. I do like a good daffodil._

_I had a feeling you were a daffodil man_

_They make me feel pretty_

When Brienne went home, she took her boxes with her. She and Sansa had demolished half the box of chocolates before the day was over, Sansa also sharing what Sandor had sent her—delicious lemon cakes.

Brienne sighed when she looked at the dress stretched out on her bed. It was now or never.

Shucking off her work clothes, she pulled it on, the fabric slipping over her skin. She zipped up the side and looked in the mirror.

The dress was tight from her torso all the way down, ending midway down her thighs. It was shorter than what she normally wore but she had to admit the length made her legs look good—feminine yet strong. The strap that covered one shoulder matched the fabric that crossed over the dress creating an illusion that it continued as it wrapped around her body.

Her eyes pricked and she took a deep breath. She looked pretty.

As she was staring at her shoe collection, her doorbell rang and she went to let Jaime in. He had insisted on taking her wherever they were going, apparently determined to keep it all a surprise.

She buzzed him up, a little nervous for him to see her. It turned out she didn’t need to be because when she opened the door, Jaime’s mouth dropped open so fast it was almost comical.

“I knew I had good taste, but wow. You look amazing.”

Jaime didn’t look too bad himself, a crisp white shirt and black pinstripe suit emphasizing the clean lines of his body. Not knowing how to respond, Brienne said abruptly, “I don’t know what shoes to wear.”

“Well, you’re in luck. I brought some options.”

Presenting her with a bag that held two shoe boxes, Jaime entered her apartment and perched on the arm of the sofa. “Go on, try them on.”

One box held silver flats, and the other heels in a similar color.

“I personally like the heels,” Jaime said.

Brienne set down the shoes and looked at him, exasperated. “I’m already taller than you.”

“You could be taller,” Jaime replied, his voice dark and when Brienne met his eyes she saw something hungry in them.

Brienne slipped on the heels, surprised at how comfortable they were. They were wedged and only added a couple inches to her height. Jaime came up beside her and took her by the wrists, pulling her against him. “Oh I like this.”

Brienne’s face burned. Jaime ran his hands down her back and then pulled away, clearing his throat.

“Ok, pick your shoes. If we don’t leave soon, I’ll probably ravish you on the couch and then we’ll miss our reservation.”

“Uh,” Brienne said, struck dumb. “The heels work.”

Brienne grabbed a purse and stowed her present for Jaime in it. He took her down to his car and they went across town.

She was surprised to see a little restaurant, nothing fancy but clearly nice. Other well-dressed couples were milling about outside and Jaime led her to the hostess who showed them to her seats with a smile and an appreciative look at Jaime.

When Brienne looked over the menu, everything was reasonably priced, the most expensive dish being a shrimp pasta that cost 25 dragons. “You know I was expecting you’d take me somewhere much more extravagant than this.”

Jaime looked up from the menu and said, “I could have but you wouldn’t have liked it. Or did I miss the mark?”

Brienne shook her head. “No, this is nice.”

Jaime ordered them a bottle of wine, deferring to Brienne’s preference for red, and she nervously fiddled with her purse.

“I have something for you,” she forced out as the waitress left them to put in their orders.

Jaime raised his eyebrows. “Other than the flowers?”

She pulled out the envelope and passed it to him. He peeled open the flap and pulled out the card she had drawn. He looked at it and then up at her and then back at the drawing on the cover. “Is this supposed to be me?” he asked, turning the card toward her.

On the front was a little cartoon lion, smiling wide and holding a plush heart, it’s resemblance to Jaime clear in it’s green eyes. Brienne nodded, maintaining eye contact even though she wanted to look away.

“I love it,” he said, sounding so genuine that it made Brienne’s heart skip. “You drew it?”

Brienne nodded again. “I wasn’t sure what to get you.”

“This is perfect,” he said.

He looked like he wanted to say something else but when he didn’t, Brienne said, “Open it.”

Inside she had placed a gift hard to a paintball place a few miles outside of King’s Landing, he held it up and laughed.

“I thought it would be fun for me to kick your ass at something besides bowling,” she said. He shook his head fondly.

“You’re a hell of a woman,” he said, soft and full of affection. Brienne’s stomach fluttered.

Maybe she could learn to like Valentine’s Day.


	7. Camping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime and Brienne go camping with the Starks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fuck 8x05. i wrote this today and decided immediately after the episode that i needed to post it so it might not be as cleaned up as other chapters  
> theres some sexy time in this chapter so i upped the rating, see end if you want to skip it

Jaime looked down at the little framed picture of a cartoon lion that he’d placed under his computer at work. He gave it a tired smile.

He’d been working insane hours the last two weeks. Tywin had promised a high profile client a far too quick turn around on drafts his team were supposed to pull together. Edmure was out on paternity leave which made Jaime the only senior architect on staff.

He hadn’t been able to spend as much time with Brienne as he would have liked, their relationship reduced to quick text exchanges and short phone calls. Valentine’s had been so nice, the way Brienne had looked at him, like he was the best thing since sliced bread. She had looked so good in the dress he had picked out for her—with some input from Sansa who seemed to have impeccable taste when it came to Brienne. 

It had been the heels that had really made the outfit. Jaime had never had a preference for height before. Elia had been rather small and the few women he had dated after had run the gamut from tiny to almost his height. Having to look up a Brienne, feeling almost small next to her had made his heart race for reasons he was starting to believe had some rather kinky origins.

He was in deep.

In the weeks followng Valentine’s day, Brienne had been somewhat shy in the physical aspects of their relationship. They’d shared a few brief kisses but every time Jaime had tried to deepen it, Brienne would pull away, that telltale blush staining her cheeks. Jaime wanted to be patient but it was difficult when he sometimes wanted to tackle her to the ground. Or rather, have her tackle him.

As 5 o’clock ticked passed and Jaime had far too much left to do that evening, he dismissed his secretary and worked until the lights of the city were the only thing illuminating his office. He had to shake himself, stand, stretch and turn on the overhead lights that he usually kept off during the day. His phone buzzed.

He picked it up with a scowl. Unknown number.

“Jaime Lannister, I’m here with a food delivery,” a deep voice intoned through the speaker.

“I didn’t order anything,” he said, wondering if in his working stupor he had had the foresight to order dinner.

“A...Brienne Tarth put in the order, sir,” the man said, sounding bored. “Are you going to come get it or not?”

Jaime grabbed his wallet and hurried to the lobby, tipped the man and took the paper bag back to his office.

The aroma of curry and hot bread filled his office and he was hit with a wave of hunger. He thought back on what he had eaten that day and realized besides a few brief snacks, he’d only had his regular breakfast protein shake after his run that morning.

_ Thank you for the food _

_ So you HADN’T eating already? _

_ No _

_ Did you eat anything at all today Jaime _

He could hear the scolding through the text on the screen.

_ I had an apple at noon? _

_ You have to eat, _ Brienne sent through quickly.  _ You won’t get work done on an empty stomach _

Jaime looked forlornly at the piles of paper on his desk and wished that were true. Submitting to the swell of affection, he hit the call button and waited for it to ring through.

“Shouldn’t you be working?” Brienne asked when she answered the phone.

“I need a break,” he said, putting her on speaker and opening up the bag.

Brienne hummed. “Rough day?”

“Gods you have no idea. Once this is submitted on Friday I’m going home and doing nothing for the weekend. You should join me. We can watch terrible TV and eat far too many sweets.”

Brienne laughed a little and Jaime thought he could hear regret in it. “I’d like that Jaime, but I’m going camping.”

“Camping?” he asked incredulously. “It’s hardly fifty degrees out!”

“Stark family tradition. First weekend of spring they go camping. I’ve been going for the last five years.”

“That sounds like a nightmare. Are the Starks insane?” Jaime asked. He shoveled a few bites of curry into his mouth. Gods it was so good.

“They’re from the North. Ned—Sansa’s dad—says it keeps them tough. It really is fun,” Brienne said, a note to her voice that made Jaime pause.

“Why do I have a feeling you’re going to ask me to go?” Jaime put down his spoon and picked up the phone, putting it back to his ear.

“It’s just that Sansa’s bringing Sandor and her brothers are bringing their girlfriends and I—well, I thought it might be nice for you to come with me.”

Thoughts of not leaving his warm cozy couch flitted through his mind. He sighed. “You know, Tarth, I’m an old man, I don’t know what sleeping on the ground will do to my poor arthritic bones.”

He could practically hear Brienne roll her eyes through the phone. “You don’t have to go,” she said primly and Jaime relented from his teasing.

“I didn’t say I wouldn’t go. I’m only warning you that you may have to scrape me off the ground every morning.”

Brienne laughed, a beautiful sound. The images of a warm weekend in his apartment were replaced by sitting next to Brienne by a flickering campfire, kissing the taste of toasted marshmallows from her mouth. 

“Ok, thank you. I promise it will be a fun time. The Starks are nice,” Brienne said.

**

Brienne had texted him a list of things he could bring. A lot of them were things he did not own. It’s not as if he’d had much opportunity to camp before. It wasn’t exactly a Lannister family pass time.

He swung his sleeping bag and newly purchased backpack into the back of Sansa’s jeep and crawled into the backseat beside Brienne. Seeing her was like a breath of fresh air, her plain face and beautiful eyes calming him from his hectic. He took her hand  where it lay next to her leg and brushed a kiss across her mouth. “You are truly a sight for sore eyes.”

Sandor looked at them in the rear view mirror and said, “No mushy stuff.”

Sansa took her hand off the gear shift and batted at his forearm. “Brienne and Jaime haven’t seen each other in a while.”

Sandor grumbled something under his breath that Jaime couldn’t hear so Jaime ignored him, settling back into his seat with his fingers laced with Brienne’s.

The drive up to the campsite was about two hours north of King’s Landing, the terrain becoming rockier and more forested. Sansa pulled her jeep into the campground, paid an attendant and drove deeper into the forest where she pulled into a clearing. A few other cars were already there and when Jaime hopped out of the car, he could hear the nearby rushing of a river. The air was colder here than in King’s Landing so he pulled on his jacket—newly purchased since he didn’t want to bring his nice wool coats for camping—and helped Brienne and Sandor pull out everything they had packed.

Sansa had run off to greet her family. Jaime couldn’t believe how  _ many _ there were. An older man with brown hair and strong nose and a series of what Jaime could only presume were his children who looked just like him only in progressively younger models. 

Sandor pulled out several cases of beer and a cooler, placing it next to a firepit filled with old ash and burned sticks. Brienne helped Jaime with their things, including a tent that she apparently owned—constantly full of surprises, his Brienne.

Sansa pulled Jaime over to the group of Starks and Brienne trailed after. Despite her height and shock of blonde hair, she fit in with them, her tan flannel and puffed vest a match for the thick button downs and boots all the Starks were wearing. 

“Everyone, this is Brienne’s boyfriend Jaime,” Sansa announced. “Jaime that’s my dad, Ned”—the older man—”that my older brother Robb”—a younger man with a mop of auburn curls—”his fiance Talisa,”—a pretty woman with tanned skin—”My cousin Jon, his girlfriend Ygritte. This is Bran,” she said gesturing at a sullen looking teenager with leg braces, “AndArya and Rickon.”

The last two were fairly young to be camping, Jaime thought, but who was he to judge. They all looked like a woodsy bunch. “It’s nice to meet you. Jaime Lannister.”

Ned snorted. “A Lannister.”

Jaime looked at him and narrowed his eyes. “Is that a problem?”

“Just never thought our Brienne would date a rich kid. You ever been camping, boy?”

Something about his gaze made Jaime feel small and to his horror he started to flush. “Um, no.”

Ned gave him a somehow threatening and toothy grin. “Well, get ready to learn.”

A woman appeared from behind one of the other jeeps, older but almost a copy Sansa.

“Ned, be nice to Brienne’s young man,” she said, though she looked at Jaime with the same expression as her husband. “I’m Catelyn Stark.”

“Jaime,” he said, sticking out his hand to shake hers. He felt like the woman was giving him the shovel talk with her eyes.

“Well,  _ Jaime,”  _ Ned said like his name was a dirty word. “Let’s go chop some wood.”

An axe appeared out of nowhere in Ned’s hand and he passed it to Jaime. “Um, I’ve never—”

“I’ll teach you,” Ned said, still grinning at him, a strong hand on his arm as he dragged Jaime into the forest.

He turned back to Brienne and mouthed  _ help _ . She shrugged, laughing at him silently. 

It turned out Jaime didn’t actually have anything to be scared about. Ned, while gruff, simply explained the general mechanics of chopping wood—line up the log, swing the ax, do it again—and watched him from a respectable distance as Jaime  struggled.

Luckily, Jaime’s usual workout routine had developed calluses on his hands where he was certain his skin would have broken from the repeated motion of the ax. AS it was, the calluses were only slightly irritated, and Ned looked begrudgingly impressed by the time they had a decent pile of logs and Jaime, while sweaty, had not complained.

“Maybe you’re not as a spoiled as I thought,” Ned declared, helping him pick up some of the split wood before they returned to the campsite.

While they had been gone, Brienne had gone through the work of setting up their tent. A few other tents were scattered throughout the campsite. The picnic table close to the tree line had been covered in coolers and packs of beer and water.

He crawled into the tent to find Brienne rolling out their sleeping bags. “I was thinking we could zip our bags together? It will help us keep warm,” she said, not looking at him.

“Are you asking to cuddle with me, Tarth?” Jaime said, sitting back on his heels where he was squatted just inside the tent.

“I mean we don’t have to—”

“I’m just teasing, Brienne. Zip us up,” he declared as he reached out to help her with the sleeping bags. 

She was blushing as they went through the zipping and unzipping. She set the extra blankets pillows up and brought out a lamp for later in the night. 

“You really do this every year?” Jaime asked, beginning to feel a chill in his fingers as evening was really setting in. 

“Mmhmm,” Brienne said. “Just wait. It really is fun.”

“You mean there are more activities than just chopping wood?” he asked, pretending to be shocked.

Brienne laughed and Jaime couldn’t resist pulling her against him into a kiss. He swiped his tongue against her bottom lip and she let out a little breathless noise that made his stomach swoop. She tried to push back and deepen the kiss but because they were both on their knees in the small space of the tent, the shift in weight made Jaime lose his balance and they fell over into a heap. He started laughing the minute his back hit the ground, startling a giggle out of Brienne as well.

“That went well,” he said drily which made her giggle more.

He turned onto his side to face her. She sobered quickly and he reached out to brush her hair from her face where it had fallen into her eyes.

“Lannister!” came a cry from the campsite. Ned. “Time to learn to make a fire.”

Jaime rolled his eyes but left the tent.

**

Jaime had to admit that Brienne was right. It was  _ nice _ . The temperature wasn’t comfortable but the company was good, the Starks steadily warming to Jaime. They made hot dogs and tinned biscuits in the fire, something Jaime didn’t think he had ever eaten. They were buttery and delicious and made him think he needed to expand his tastes.

Jaime got pulled into a game of cards with Sandor and Sansa that involved a lot slapping and general aggression. Sansa had modified it to somehow be a drinking game and Jaime found himself three beers deep before he really intended to be.

Brienne stayed by the fire, chatting with Catelyn and Ned who did truly seem to treat her as another daughter. Jaime smiled at her wistfully from where he was sitting at the picnic table.

“If you’re not going to pay attention, then why are we fucking playing?” Sandor growled, throwing his cards down on the table.

Sansa laughed and the two of them started playing against just each other as Jaime stood and wandered over to the fire. He felt a bit blurry around the edges, physically tired from chopping wood with the alcohol making everything extra fuzzy.

Brienne took one look at him and stood. “I think Jaime and I are going to bed.”

Ned looked at his watch and said, “Oh I suppose it is getting late. Kids?”

Arya scowled like she wanted to protest but took Rickon off to their tent that they were sharing with Bran. Ned banked the fire as Brienne grabbed a water bottle from the cooler. She took Jaime to the river and they brushed their teeth using a little cold water from the bottle. 

Jaime spit into the river and then looked at Brienne, her mouth smeared in toothpaste and eyes reflecting the moonlight. “Sansa called me your boyfriend.”

The toothbrush froze in Brienne’s mouth. She spit into the river and wiped her mouth. “Is that not ok?”

Well, he hadn’t brought that up right if she was going to sound that freaked out. “We just haven’t talked about it and I wasn’t sure what you wanted.”

Jaime saw Brienne’s hand tighten around the handle of her toothbrush where it had fallen by her side. “I want us to be exclusive. I want you to be my boyfriend. I’ll be your girlfriend, the whole deal,” she said it like a pronouncement, eyes daring him to say something snarky.

Jaime tapped his finger against his lips and pretended to think. “Hmmm, I don’t know. I’ve been working for the last few months to get this girl to go out with me. Red hair, tall, but not so tall as her firecracker of a best friend. I finally got an invite to her family’s camping trip so I might finally make my move.”

Brienne groaned so Jaime reached out and grabbed her by her belt loops, pulling her forward. She hit his chest with her open palm and said, “Don’t be a jerk.”

Jaime grinned up at her. “You like it when I’m a jerk.”

When they crawled into the tent, Jaime shucked off his pants and pulled on the long underwear Brienne had insisted he bring. She watched him with her eyebrows up but didn’t say anything.

“You can laugh, but you’re the one that told me this was necessary” he said as he tried to wiggle them up his hips. Brienne made a stifled noise like a choking laugh as she turned to change into her own warm sleeping clothes.

Jaime’s breath caught when she tugged off her shirt, exposing the broad expanse of her strong back. He could see the play of muscles under her skin as she pulled on a long sleeve shirt and thick leggings, regrettably covering the pale length of her legs. He climbed into the sleeping bag, trying to ignore the beginning waves of arousal at her little display.

Brienne crawled in after him, making an adorable little cooing noise when she pulled the flannel of the inside of the sleeping bag against her skin. “I love this,” she said on a satisfied sigh.

“Camping?” Jaime asked, rolling onto his side to face her. His movement disturbed the top of the sleeping bag and a burst of cool air came between them. He shivered.

In the blue light of the lamp next to them, her eyes looked brighter, bottomless. He felt that same swell of affection he’d come to associate with Brienne; this wonderful, strong woman who didn’t take his shit. “I’m going to kiss you.”

Brienne nodded and rolled over so they were facing each other. He cupped her face and brought her mouth against his, their soft kisses turning quickly heated. It was the first time Brienne had allowed it to go this far since that night in the snow. He lost himself in the feel of her lips, the roaring in his ears drowning out the rush of the river and the chirping of crickets.

“Gods, Brienne,” he whispered into her mouth before trailing kisses down her cheek and neck. She trembled against him and made a quiet noise that he took as one of pleasure. Feeling emboldened, he let one hand skate down her body until it reached her hip. He grasped it and pulled her close against him and she instinctively rolled her body against his. 

“Sorry,”  Brienne said, pulling back a little.

“Don’t apologize,” Jaime said, capturing her mouth again and any protest died as their lips slid together. Despite the cold, Jaime felt like he was burning. He toyed with the hem of her shirt and then ran his hand up over the skin of her bare back. 

She gasped and her hands fluttered against his shoulder blades before coming down to grip his ribs. Their legs became tangled and Jaime pressed his thigh against her center. She ground down against him, uninhibited and it made heat pool in his stomach. He was achingly hard. 

Taking a risk, he ran his finger under her waistband, scraping his nails delicately across her hip bone. She froze and pulled back a little, searching his face in the lamplight. 

“Can I touch you?” he asked refusing to look away as he traced his thumb back and force over the place where her hip met her thigh.

Brienne bit her lip and Jaime stilled. Whatever pace she wants, he reminded himself.

She nodded, a little nervous, and he dropped his head to her shoulder. “Tell me if you need me to stop.”

She nodded again, all wide eyes and kiss bitten lips. Jaime kissed her again, this time softer as he trailed his hand from her hip to the juncture of her thighs. When he move his fingers up the seam of her leggings she gave a little whine that made her eyes snap open as a laugh escaped her. “Sorry, I don’t think I’ve ever made that noise.”

Jaime chuckled low in his throat. “I’m hoping you’ll make a lot of new noises then.”

Jaime kissed her again, reveling in the softness of her lips in contrast to the hard lines of her body. He urged her onto her back and slipped his hand under the waistband of her leggings, the touch of his hand against the top her underwear made her jump but he just pressed soothing kisses down her neck and collarbone. Jaime gently traced her slit through her underwear and Brienne made that same little whining noise. He smiled against her neck before pulling the cloth aside and repeating the motion against her bare skin.

“Gods you’re so wet,” Jaime said, and once he started talking he found he couldn’t stop.

Teasing her clit with his thumb he huffed into her neck, “Fuck, I wonder what you taste like. You feel amazing. Better than I imagined. Beautiful.”

Brienne moaned and he cut off the noise with a kiss. She squirmed against his hand. “You’re so gorgeous. I wish I could see all of you. I want to feel you, Brienne. Do you think you could come for me? Like this?”

Brienne bit her lip and opened her eyes, her vulnerability shining in them as Jaime looked at her. She surged up to kiss him again, desperate and hot. She began to move with his hand. He wished he could put his fingers inside her, feel her heat, but she was giving him so much already. Brienne began to shudder, she grabbed at his shirt and yanked him tighter against her body, so tight it was almost painful. She bit his shoulder and stifled a cry into his skin. Her body stilled for a moment before she began to pull away so Jaime stopped the movement of his hand. 

Jaime kissed her neck as her chest heaved. He felt out of breath himself. “Brienne,” he said quietly. She hummed, a sleepy sound. 

“Thank you,” he said into her shoulder. She released her stranglehold on his shirt.

“Why are you thanking me?” she asked, confusion mingled with relaxation in her tone.

She rolled over and looked at him. He smiled back. “I’m glad you trusted me.”

She blushed, a strange pink in the blue of the lamplight. “Of course I trust you.”

Jaime reached out to pull her against him, but found himself on his back with Brienne’s body weighing him down.

“Your turn,” she said and even if she looked a little nervous, her tone brooked no argument. He gaped at her, his arousal returning in full force.

She reached between them and with no preamble rubbed her hand over his clothed erection. He slammed his head back into the pillow. “I’ve never—you might have to give me some direction,” she said, hesitant but determined as she stroked him.

“You’re doing fine,” he choked out and Brienne gave him a sly grin. When had she started smirking at  _ him _ ? He was a bad influence on her.

With the intense focus he expected from Brienne, she pulled down his long underwear and briefs and paused for a moment. He looked down at himself and then at her as she studied his exposed erection.

She shook herself and then frowned. “Sorry, I’ve never seen a penis in person before.”

Jaime started laugh so hard that he doubled up, his knees knocking into Brienne’s ass where she sat on his thighs. She looked apologetic. Gods she was so sweet.

“Did I ruin the mood?” she asked, chagrinned.

“No,” he said still laughing. “No, sweetheart. Kiss me again.”

She gave him a doubtful looked but came down to kiss him anyway. Jaime tangled his fingers in her hair and kissed her deeply so that  when she pulled back her eyes had gone glassy with arousal. She pressed a hand into his chest and wrapped the other around his cock, her grip tight, almost perfectly painful. The weight of her made him squirm and fuck he liked it, he wanted her to hold him down and make him—He was too close. He grabbed Brienne’s wrist and said, “Hold on, I don’t have anything to clean up with.”

Brienne looked at him, a little confused, but when comprehension dawned she gave a little shrug and leaned down to take him into her mouth. Jaime made an embarrassingly loud noise and Brienne’s hand came up to clamp over his mouth.

His eyes rolled back in his head as she kept one hand over his mouth and the other around the base of his cock, her strong arms holding down his hips. Her mouth was unpracticed but amazing and oh so warm and Jaime’s vision narrowed into nothing until his ears rang with his sudden orgasm. He cried out against Brienne’s palm.

She pulled off of him and sat back on her heels, wiping at her mouth with the back of her hand. Jaime looked up at her from the ground, feeling spent. “Wow, you, uh, you took that like a champ.”

He was rewarded by one of Brienne’s crimson blushes. He pulled up his pants and Brienne went to the side of the tent and rifled through her bag, pulling out a small bottle of mouthwash. She unzipped the tent to swirl and spit and when she turned back to Jaime, he was hit by a wave of affection so strong that he was speechless for a moment.

“Come back here. I’m cold,” Jaime demanded, pouting and giving her a plaintive look. Brienne rolled her eyes but crawled back up next to him.

“That’s what happens when you get half naked in the woods,” Brienne retorted.

“The getting half naked thing wasn’t only my idea, Tarth,” Jaime said, tossing his arm over Brienne and spooning up against her.

“You’ve really never done that before?” Jaime asked, replaying their encounter in his mind.

“I’ve seen as much pornography as the next girl,” Brienne said dryly. Jaime laughed into her back.

“Fair enough.”

They were quiet and Jaime listened to Brienne’s breathing even out.

“Want to tell me more about this pornography you’ve been watching?”

Brienne groaned and said, “Go to sleep, Jaime.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you'd prefer not to read the sexy stuff skip from "can i touch you" to "come back here. I'm cold."
> 
> hope you enjoyed the sugary sweet exploration of sexuality and romance! more to come soon!


	8. Babysitting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne meets Jaime's niece and nephew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so due to season 8 related angst there were some delays writing this chapter.  
> joffrey doesnt exist in this AU for obvious reasons (i didn't want to deal with him)  
> slight angst but only a little!

Brienne stirred, the coldness on her face making her burrow deeper into the sleeping bag. Jaime grunted behind her and she rolled over to look at him.

Gods she had really—they had—

She blushed just thinking about it. Jaime scooted closer to her and tucked his face against her arm. “It’s cold,” he grumbled.

“It’s about to get colder,” she warned before throwing off the sleeping bag and crawling toward the flap. Jaime yelped and grabbed at her socked feet, but she was far enough away that he couldn’t get a hold of her.

Laughing, she hopped out of the tent and pulled on her shoes to head off in search of a place to pee. The foggy morning was brisk but as she adjusted to the temperature, she realized it wasn’t actually that cold. When she returned, business taken care of, she found Sansa stoking the fire, kettle on the grate to heat water.

Sansa noticed her approach and smirked at her. “Have a nice night last night?”

Brienne’s face flamed, but Sansa took pity on her. “Don’t worry, Sandor and I were the closest to you and we could barely hear. Though Jaime made an  _ interesting _ noise at some point.”

Brienne choked and seemingly unaware of her friend’s discomfort Sansa continued, “I’m just glad you’re finally getting laid.”

Jaime appeared out of the tent, jeans pulled on, and golden hair half matted on one side of his head. “Who’s getting laid?”

“You two,” Sansa said matter-of-factly.

Jaime raised his eyebrows and looked between her and Brienne who said, apologetic, “She heard us.”

Jaime smirked like he was pleased with himself. “That makes more sense. You didn’t strike me as the type to kiss and tell.”

“Oh she definitely isn’t,” Sansa said, pulling the boiling kettle from the fire.

“Coffee anyone?” Sansa asked, pouring the boiling water over the filter into her cup.

“Yes please,” Jaime said, sitting down on one of the rocks near the fire pit and holding out his hands to warm them over the coals.

As the rest of the Starks slowly trickled out of their tents, Jaime leaned over and asked Brienne, “So what do you do today?”

“We fish.”

To Brienne’s surprise, Jaime was decent at fishing. He’d never done it before, but followed her instructions and caught one fish to her zero. He looked so adorably proud of himself that Brienne rewarded him with a short kiss. That only made him look more pleased.

Robb showed Jaime how to gut the fish and Brienne laughed at the way Jaime paled when Robb scooped out the innards. 

“I never want to do that again,” Jaime whispered to her, leaving Robb to finish up. 

“You don’t have to,” Brienne said, patting his arm condescendingly.

“We aren’t all made to be wilderness experts,” Jaime retorted, his nose in the air.

“Ain’t that the truth,” Brienne said under her breath as Jaime glared at her.

**

On Sunday, they packed things up and rode back to King’s Landing. Brienne found herself regretting not initiating anything physical the night before, but she’d been a little too unshowered and a little too tired to overcome any trepidation on her part.

Jaime seemed happy just to curl up against her and that had been lovely in it’s own right.

They went their separate ways that afternoon, and Jaime texted her righ when he got home.

_ I did enjoy camping, you were right ;P _

Brienne smiled down at her phone.

_ There are some parts of it that id like to do again _

Her stomach jumped and heat pooled low in her belly. There were some things that  _ she _ wanted to do again. 

_ Id give anything to see your face right now. I bet youre blushing. Are you blushing _

Brienne was, in fact, blushing. Ignoring his teasing she texted back,  _ Dinner wednesday? _

_ Wednesday, _ Jaime said.

Brienne put her clothes in the wash and got in the shower, humming tunelessly to herself.

**

Brienne followed the woman in front of her into Jaime’s building. She had been about to call up but the blonde woman had appeared and opened the door for her, so Brienne sent Jaime a quick text letting him know that she had arrived and took the elevator up to his floor.

Jaime threw open the door to his apartment looking harried just as a screech rang out through his apartment. He looked at her in confusion and said, “Oh shit.”

Brienne ignored the way her heart constricted. He waved his hand, clearly noticing her distress. “Not, oh shit  _ at _ you. I just—things have been crazy and I meant to text you.”

A small blonde blur appeared, slamming into Jaime’s hip. Plaintive green eyes looked up at her and the child said, “Who is she?”

Jaime put his hand on the little girl’s hair and said, “This is Brienne.”

“Brienne,” the girl repeated and then looked back at her. “Brienne?”

Brienne nodded slowly.

“I’m Myrcella. And that’s Tommen.”

A small boy that Brienne hadn’t noticed peaked out from behind Jaime, before ducking back and hiding. “Sorry,” Jaime said with an apologetic smile. “Cersei dropped them off without asking.”

The little girl perked up. “When’s momma coming back?”

“Later tonight, Myrcie.”

The girl humphed and dashed off again, her brother following after at the same breakneck pace.

The boy returned and handed her a small stuffed animal. A cat. “Thank you,” Brienne said. He nodded firmly before taking off again.

“Do you want to come in? You don’t have to,” Jaime asked, sounding tired.

“Yeah, no. I can. That’s fine,” her desire to spend time with Jaime winning out over her nerves at the sheer energy buzzing around his apartment in the form of two small children.

She set down the little cat on the entryway table and shrugged off her coat. She’d dressed up a little for the occasion, black leggings and a tunic, but that didn’t matter anymore. Jaime pressed a kiss to her cheek as he took her coat. From somewhere in the room Brienne heard a dramatic gagging noise.

“Uncle Jaime that’s gross.” Myrcella whined.

“You’re gross,” Jaime replied without even looking around to find the source of the statement.

“Am not,” she replied indignantly, once more appearing in front of Brienne. Brienne looked down at her and was struck by her resemblance to Jaime. 

“Are you sure these aren’t your kids?” Brienne asked under her breath. “Myrcella looks just like you.”

“It’s the twin thing,” Jaime explained.

“Twin thing?” Brienne asked. Tommen had appeared and grabbed her hand, taking her into the leaving room where Jaime had pushed the coffee table against the wall and a myriad of toys were strewn about the rug.

“Cersei is my twin. Wait—have I not told you that?”

Brienne shook her head, not taking her attention of Tommen who kept handing her things. The boy couldn’t be more than three with Myrcella probably around six. She took the plastic horse that Tommen handed her and asked, “How old are you?”

Tommen refused to meet her gaze but galloped his own horse over the carpet.

Myrcella came up beside her. “I’m seven and he’s three.”

“So are you in school?” Brienne asked the girl, turning from her seat on the carpet to meet her eye.

Myrcella puffed out her chest. “I’m in first grade.”

“What are you learning about now?” 

Tommen replaced the horse in her hand with a truck.

“Writing. I already know all my ABCs and how to write them,” Myrcella replied haughtily.

“Well, it sounds like good practice,” Brienne said with a nod. When was the last time she’d been around kids this young? Rickon had been nine when she had begun spending holidays with the Stark family. Now the kid was fourteen and all awkward limbs and pimpled skin. Just as friendly though.

“Can we read a book?” Myrcella asked.

Brienne nodded. “Do you have a book you want to read? All of Jaime’s books are boring.”

“No pictures,” Myrcella agreed seriously.

“I’m going to start making dinner,” Jaime said quickly from the doorway as Myrcella rifled through her purple backpack.

“Do you have anything for dinner?” Brienne asked.

Jaime grimaced. “I’ve got what the chef made on Sunday. Chicken fettuccine and vegetables.

“Vegetables?” Tommen said with a slight lisp. “I like vegetables.”

“I know you do, buddy. You can have an extra helping.”

Myrcella pushed a book into her hands, successfully distracting her from Jaime. She helped her sound out some of the more difficult words as they followed the story of Ferdinand the bull who just wanted to smell the flowers. 

They ate dinner with Jaime helping Tommen cut up some of the bigger pieces of broccoli. Myrcella pushed her broccoli and carrots around but ate some of it, mostly devouring the cheesy noodles she had piled on her plate. 

They put Myrcella and Tommen in front of the TV with some innocuous cartoon and cleaned up. Shortly thereafter, Jaime herded them to his bedroom and tucked them into his bed, the children looking comically small in the huge thing, before coming back to collapse on the couch with Brienne, a cartoon still playing quietly on the TV.

“Long day?” Brienne asked, taking his hand.

“Very long day,” Jaime replied. “I was looking forward to a quiet evening with you and then Cersei appeared, handed me the kids and trotted off. I hardly got a word in edgewise before she was gone.”

“What is she doing?” Brienne asked, feeling frustrated on his behalf.

Jaime shook his head. “I don’t even know. Sometimes she does this before going out with her friends. Bobby—her husband—he works long hours so he can’t take the kids and she says she needs to blow off steam. I like taking the kids, I just wish she’d warn me, you know?”

“That makes sense,” Brienne said, not wanting him to beat himself up for something like this. It wasn’t his fault that his sister didn’t communicate well.

At 10 PM a knock at the door preceded one of the most beautiful women Brienne had ever seen. She had the same golden hair that Jaime had, the same piercing green eyes, but where Jaime’s features were strong, hers were delicate. Brienne felt like an absolutely monstrosity in comparison.

“Who is that?” Cersei asked when her eyes fell on Brienne. Her tone was something Brienne was used to, like Cersei was laughing at her.

Brienne shut off the TV and turned on a lamp, bringing herself to her full height. Before she could say anything, Jaime said, “This is Brienne Tarth, my girlfriend.”

Cersei snorted, covering her mouth with her hand. “And you said I was dating below me when you met Robert. You’ve got some nerve,” she said, her eyes filled with cruel humor.

Brienne saw Jaime’s face go taut and a muscle in his jaw ticked. “Cersei—you’re my sister and I love you, but you’ll shut your mouth right now.”

Ignoring him, Brienne approached Cersei, drawing so close that the woman had to lean back to look into her eyes. “Brienne Tarth, nice to meet you. Cersei, right?”

Cersei took her hand, the small thing disappearing into Brienne’s palm. 

“Lovely to meet you,” Brienne said, her tone making it clear that she meant exactly the opposite. She turned on her heel and disappeared into the kitchen as Jaime began to hiss something at Cersei who hissed back.

She got herself a glass of water and sipped it slowly. Jaime came into the kitchen after the door shut and the apartment had fallen eerily quiet.

“I’m sorry about Cersei.”

Not feeling particularly forgiving Brienne said, “Your sister is a bitch.”

Jaime pulled himself up on one of the stools and put his head in his hands. “I know,” he said. “Would you believe if I said that we used to be really close?”

He sounded so distressed that some of Brienne’s rage melted and she put her glass down. “Why aren’t you anymore?”

When Jaime looked up, Brienne saw his eyes were shining. “Cersei and I are twins. A lot of people don’t know what that means. That bond. Sometimes it felt like it was us against the world. No matter what the other did, we were always on each other’s side.

“And then Elia happened. She was Cersei’s friend and then my girlfriend, but when she hurt—when she cheated on me, Cersei took her side. So yes, Cersei is a bitch and I spent twenty five years of my life pretending she wasn’t.”

Brienne was torn between her own anger and her desire to comfort Jaime. “Sounds complicated.”

Jaime laughed and shook his head. “The Lannister family in a nutshell.”

Brienne rinsed out her cup and put it in the dishwasher before starting it. “I guess I’m going to head out ok?”

Jaime came to her side and took her hands. “Are you mad at me? I am sorry you know.”

Brienne sighed. “I’m not mad at you. I’m just mad.”

Jaime nodded though he looked like he wanted to say a lot more. “I really did want it to be just us tonight.”

Brienne smiled, a little sad. “Me too, Jaime.”

“Can I make it up to you?”

“You don’t need to make it up to me,” Brienne said and gave in to the urge to brush some of the hair from Jaime’s face, the burnished gold changing color in the kitchen light as it moved. He gave her a look so full of awe that Brienne snatched her hand back. 

Jaime grabbed her hand before she could pull away completely. “How about I  _ want _ to make it up to you?”

“Well, that’s different entirely,” Brienne said with a roll of her eyes.

“I’ll come up with something. Meet me here on Saturday morning. We’ll spend the day together.”

“I’ll be here. But don’t do anything embarrassing.”

“No guarantees,” Jaime said with a smirk. 

**

Brienne had come to love how Jaime looked in his casual clothes; jeans, sneakers and a t-shirt. There was something humanising about such a handsome man in something so  _ normal _ .

It was even more jarring as they wandered through the aisles of the antique mall outside of King’s Landing. Brienne had arrived at Jaime’s apartment and in a flurry of excitement he had declared they were going antiquing. Brienne wasn’t going to argue. She loved looking at old things, picking through piles of obscurity and finding treasures.

Jaime picked up a marble bookend in the shape of a bird and said, “What is this?”

“Bookend,” Brienne replied as she flipped through a box full of records. A lot of the normal stuff, Dylan, Mitchell, Streisand, but nothing that called out to her. She let the pile fall to the back and turned to the shelves of dishware. 

“What are you looking for?” Jaime asked, hovering at her shoulder. She shook her head at his manic energy.

“I’m not sure, I’ll know when I see it.”

Jaime wandered away through the musty shelves of the sprawling mall and Brienne peered through the lines of cups and butter dishes. She was still keeping an out for that one crockery series with the orange and yellow fruit embellishments but she hadn’t seen any in months. This particular shelf yielded no results.

Brienne moved on to a bookcase filled with novelty salt and pepper shakers. Cows, and pumpkins, and corn. She saw a cute little set of elephants but decided against it.

She heard Jaime yell her name from a few booths over so she abandoned a rack of pink glass dishes and sought him out. 

Brienne found him seated on the ground in front of a shelf filled with old tins and a cookie jar shaped like an ice cream cone. “Look!” he said, pointing at the hideous thing. It had a little anthropomorphic face that made it even creepier.

“The cookie jar?” she asked.

“Yes, isn’t it weird?”

“Um, yes?”

“I’m going to buy it,” Jaime announced, picking it up off the shelf. Brienne got a good look at the price tag: $40. She almost protested but Jaime looked so pleased that she didn’t have the heart to put him off the horrid thing. Brienne liked weird things, things that felt like they had a history. That cookie jar didn’t have a history unless it was a history of eating small children.

In the end, she found a vase with ceramic vines circling it and bursting from the top, and a tin with an image of a parrot on it. Jaime insisted on buying her a silver necklace with dangling suns and moons and she couldn’t bring herself to say no. At least  _ that _ was only five dollars.

Jaime helped load their finds into the car and as they settled into the front seat Brienne buckled herself in and found Jaime looking at her with a dopey smile on his face. Brienne’s heart skipped and she smiled hesitantly in return.

“We should do that again sometime,” Jaime said, still not turning on the car.

“I know some other good places to look for antiques and when summer starts up there’s a flea market every third Saturday that sometimes has good finds.”

“It was fun watching you dig for things. You get so focused,” he said, scrunching his nose and poking at her cheeks like she was some adorable child.

She slapped at his hands and he pulled away laughing before turning towards the steering wheel and starting the car.

They stopped at a deli and took the sandwiches to go, ending up back at Brienne’s apartment which she couldn’t help but notice was so much tinier than Jaime’s. He didn’t seem to mind though, settling at the dining room table to eat his sandwich as Brienne added her finds to the shelves around her TV.

“Why the parrot tin?” he asked around a full bite.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full. And I don’t know. I liked him.”

Jaime made a show of chewing and swallowing as Brienne took a seat across from him to eat her own lunch. “Is there any rhyme or reason to what you pick?”

“I mean, why did you pick the ice cream cone?” she asked, biting into her sandwich. Gods, it was good. She hadn’t eaten since breakfast and, with all the distraction, had forgotten how hungry she was.

“I don’t know. I liked it.”

“Exactly. Sometimes it just feels right.”

Lunch turned into discussing what they wanted to do that evening to making out against the entryway hall. One minute Brienne was certain they were standing around ready to say goodbye and the next she was pressed up against the wall with Jaime’s tongue in her mouth and his hands running down her sides.

Not that she was complaining.

When his hands crept up under the hem of her shirt, she bit back a yelp at the way it sent a nervous shiver up her spine. She felt Jaime smile against her mouth as he flattened his palms against her back, large and warm. The desire to be closer to him struck her and, pushing any nervousness away, she pulled at the fabric of his shirt until he leaned back and allowed her to tug it over his head.

“If you’re going to take my shirt off, do I get to take yours off?” Jaime asked, eyes dark with that quintessentially Jaime twinkle shot through.

Brienne nodded even as her throat went dry, Jaime grasping her t-shirt and pulling it over her head. She heard Jaime’s breath catch as he reached out to run his hands down the planes of her stomach. Her muscles tensed and she grasped his arms, spinning them and shoving him onto the sideboard. The mirror on the wall shook slightly but she ignored it.

She took off her bra and threw it aside. Jaime made a noise of appreciation before she kissed him again. The sound he made against her mouth sent a shock of arousal through her. She felt powerful and she liked it.

“Bedroom,” she demanded. Jaime pulled back and searched her face, but, not wanting to discuss it too much or risk losing her nerve, Brienne lifted him from where he was perched on top of the sideboard and set him down. “Bedroom,” she repeated even more forcefully and pushed him back towards the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for all the comments and kudos!  
> sexy times coming soon :p


	9. Pillow Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime and Brienne share stories (and pizza).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there's some sexy times here, see end for where to skip to if you don't want to read it!  
> sorry for the delay! i was distraught by canon but am back!

She had picked him up. Picked him up. Like he weighed nothing. Jaime’s head was spinning as Brienne pushed him back into the bedroom. That moment of weightlessness, strong arms around him, fingers digging into his sides. He felt his stomach twist with arousal, sharp and heady.

Brienne must have noticed the way he had stilled since she stopped when his knees hit the edge of her bed. 

“Is this ok?”

His tongue felt thick in his mouth. “Yes, more than ok.”

Flipping them so Brienne was against the bed, he pushed her down on it, tugging her legs until she was perched on the very edge, back flat against the mattress and hair splayed across the blanket. She was flushed, her wide mouth slightly open revealing her crooked teeth and in the moment Jaime couldn’t believe how beautiful he thought she was.

“I want to eat you out,” he said, feeling her legs tense where they were wrapped around his hips.

“Are you sure?” she asked, a thread of nervousness lacing her voice.

“Gods, yes,” Jaime said as he dropped to his knees and unbuttoned her jeans, tugging them down her legs.

Brienne let out a moan when he trailed biting kisses down her abdomen as he finished removing her pants. Naked except for her light blue underpants, Jaime paused and surveyed the pale expanse of her torso. Freckles peppered her hips and breasts, prominent black spots that emphasized her paleness. Her small breasts felt warm and perfect in his hands as he flicked his thumb over one nipple and then the next. Each touch drew new sounds from Brienne and each sound sent a new thrill through Jaime.

It had been so long since he had last slept with a woman and he was so glad that he was breaking his dry spell with Brienne.

He surged up Brienne’s body and kissed her thoroughly, more aggressive than he normally was with her but she didn’t seem to mind, only pressing more tightly against him as she tried to find friction to relieve her arousal.

Jaime slipped her underwear off her body and pressed light kisses from her knee up her thigh, moving her legs over his shoulders. He nibbled on her inner thigh and grinned at the high keening noise she made.

The thatch of dark blonde hair between her legs smelled like clean ocean and woman and salt when he traced her with his tongue, a light touch he knew would drive her wild. At the first touch of his tongue on her clit, Brienne hands threaded themselves in his hair, tight and unforgiving. The sharp pain of it made his cock twitch in his pants, a reaction he decided he’d need to think about later.

Focusing his efforts, he nibbled and sucked chasing each noise Brienne made, feeling her clit swell under his tongue. Her sounds changed in pitch and when he knew she was close, he slipped a finger inside of her in search of that soft space that he knew would give her the most pleasure.

She bucked against his face, her legs clamping down around his ears, muffling her cries. When she relaxed back against the bed, he withdrew, feeling pretty damn satisfied himself. 

“I can hear you smirking, Jaime,” Brienne said, eyes closed and slightly breathless.

“I have things to smirk about,” he said.

Her eye popped open. “Not for long.”

She tackled him back onto the bed, her strong hands making quick work of him. When he spilled onto his stomach with a cry, Brienne sat back, looking pleased. 

“Who’s smirking now?” Jaime said when he sat up to grab a couple of tissues from the box on the nightstand. He smiled at the little green eraser sat next to the lamp, still in its place of honor.

Jaime got up and washed down his stomach in the bathroom down the hall and returned to the bed to move closer to Brienne, his body still warm and relaxed. She smiled at him, the same affection he felt reflected back in her fathomless blue eyes. He traced the line of her shoulder with his fingers. “That was nice.”

She hummed in agreement and rolled toward him.

“So you’ve really never slept with anyone before?”

Brienne’s eyes shot open and Jaime saw the vulnerability and fear that had recently fallen away in their interactions return in force. He paused the movement of his hand. “You don’t have to answer. It’s just hard for me to believe sometimes.”

Brienne rolled onto her back. “Really? Looking like I do?”

Jaime pursed his lips. “I don’t like when you talk yourself down like that.”

Brienne chuckled, a dark thing, but before Jaime could protest further she said, “I’ve only ever dated a handful of people. The first one was in college, he turned out gay. The second had only asked me out on a bet. I may be ugly but I wasn’t desperate. I decided I’d sleep with someone when they wanted to sleep with me and if that never happened so be it. Dildos exist for a reason.”

Jaime felt a spike of arousal at the image of Brienne, legs splayed, pressing a dildo into her soft folds.

“Wait do you  _ have _ a dildo?” he asked, acutely interested.

Brienne flushed all the way down to her freckled collarbone. “Maybe.”

Jaime pressed a kiss to her shoulder. “I’m going to make you show me that someday.”

“You are a menace,” Brienne said though it wasn’t without affection. 

Jaime kissed her, more out of happiness than arousal. When they separated, Brienne searched his face. “What about you? Have you slept with a lot of people?”

Jaime flashed back to Elia, always accusing him of infidelity and being attracted to other women—ironic considering how their relationship ended—but when he looked at Brienne he saw only curiosity. 

“Not  _ a lot _ ,” Jaime said. He went back to tracing shapes on her bicep. “I had a girlfriend in high school and we fooled around a little, but then Tyrion pointed out how much she looked like Cersei and that ruined  _ that _ . It might be silly but I really wanted to wait until I loved someone, really loved them, before sleeping together. Elia teased me about it when we first had sex. She was more experienced than me and for five years it was only her and then  for about a year after that I slept around more than I should have before realizing I hated it.”

Brienne made humming noises of acknowledgement throughout his little speech, her eyes still wide and without judgment. “Have you had any other girlfriends besides her?”

Jaime gave her a grin. “Well there’s you.”

Brienne shoved him in the chest and he laughed before deciding to answer her question seriously. “There were girls here and there. Always for a month or two before one of us got bored. They’ve all been nice and we’ve parted on good terms, but it never felt, well it never felt right.”

“And me? It’s been two months,” Brienne asked, quiet and nervous.

“Do I seem bored?” Jaime replied with fond exasperation. 

“I don’t know!” Brienne said defensive but laughing.

“Well, I’m not.”

“Good, me neither.”

They smiled at each other and Jaime felt like a fool, a happy fool.

She pulled away and got out of bed, her body fully on display. Jaime raked his gaze over her form and smirked to himself when she bent over, making her ass look even more amazing.

She pulled on a pair of shorts and oversized shirt. Jaime made a sad noise. “What? I’m not going to stay naked.”

Jaime whined again and she threw a shirt at him. He tossed it aside, not caring about being clothed. “At least come back to bed.”

She crawled in next to him and he nudged her with his knee. “Tell me a secret.”

Brienne looked contemplative for a moment. “I want to illustrate children’s books.”

Jaime’s eyebrows went up. “Really? Why don’t you?”

Brienne shrugged and said, “It’s a hard field to get into. Besides, Sansa needs me and I don’t  _ dislike _ my work. I’m good at it.”

“You studied graphic design at university though?”

“I did. Did you study architecture?”

“Architecture major, business minor,” Jaime listed off. It had been so long ago.

“Business sounds a bit more Lannister.”

“My father made me,” he said with a grimace. “It wasn’t exactly thrilling.”

Jaime’s stomach rumbled and he started. “Are you hungry? I’m hungry.”

“Um, I guess?” Brienne asked, confused by the sudden change in topic. Jaime liked the little line that formed between her pale brows when she was trying to piece his rambling thoughts together.

Jaime called the closest pizza place and ordered an extra large cheese, before collapsing back next to her. “45 minutes until pizza.”

“Think you can handle all that waiting?” Brienne asked, mock concerned.

“It shall be a challenge but I will try my best,” Jaime replied, hand over his heart.

Brienne chuckled. It brought Jaime’s focus back to her and to the quiet moment between them.

“So you’re from the Sapphire Isle. I’ve never been.”

Brienne’s eyes lit up and she began to gush about the beauty of her home. According to her, her family was descended from the old lords and ladies of the island so they owned the ancestral castle even if her and her family had grown up in a small warden’s college on the estate. 

“Do you still own it?”

Brienne’s previous joy faded. “I sold it all when my father died. To settle his estate.”

Jaime took her hand and gave it a light squeeze. “I’m sorry.”

“It was a long time ago,” she said brusquely.

“My mother died when I was young. Still makes me sad to think about it. Grief doesn’t really exist on a time table.”

Brienne’s wide eyes locked with his and they shared a quiet moment before she said, “Can we talk about something else?”

Jaime nodded and changed the subject to his favorite television show which apparently Brienne didn’t watch. He would have to remedy  _ that _ as soon as possible.

Brienne apparently preferred reading to television which didn’t surprise Jaime at all and when he told her about his troubles with school and reading early on and all the tutors his father had paid for, she nodded in understanding. 

The pizza arrived and Jaime paid for it in his boxers, much to the shock of the young delivery boy who couldn’t seem to decide where to look. Jaime tipped him extra before returning to the bed with napkins and the giant box.

“So is it your turn to tell me a secret?” Brienne asked, licking the sauce off her fingers after devouring the first slice.

Jaime chewed and swallowed. “Promise not to make fun of me?”

“I promise,” Brienne said solemnly, pulling her legs up to sit criss cross in front of the pizza box.

“I like how strong you are,” he said. He felt a rush of blood in his cheeks like he was some teenager confessing to his crush.

“I knew that,” Brienne said, confusion clear in the set of her jaw.

“No I mean. I  _ like _ it. Itturnsmeon,” he said in a rush.

“Oh,” Brienne said lamely, looking away.

“Is it weird?” Jaime said, cringing.

“Not any weirder than other things I’ve heard of. Is there, um, things you want to do about it?”

“We don’t have to.” Jaime picked up another slice of pizza and then set it down on the napkin in his lap. 

“Is that why you got um, excited, at the gym?” Brienne asked, her gaze focused off in the distance as she was clearly thinking hard.

“Yeah,” Jaime confessed.

“Well, maybe we can try that again sometime, but, uh, I can not hold back so much,” Brienne offered shyly and when Jaime met her eyes, she gave him a wicked grin.

“Oh, you’re going to give me hell about this aren’t you?” Jaime said, shaking his head, feeling simultaneously relieved and embarrassed.

“Definitely.”

They collapsed in laughter, the pizza growing cold between them.

The spent the rest of the evening laughing and sharing old secrets. Jaime told her about playing hide and seek with Tyrion at Casterly and never being able to find his brother because he was so small that he could hide practically anywhere.

Brienne told him about her older brother who had joined the navy years ago and died in the service.

Jaime, in turn, made sure she laughed away the bad memories by recounting the horrible antics he got up to in college, and as the day turned into night, they lost track of time. The bedside clock blinked 2 AM when Brienne stretched and rubbed at her eyes, they continued to share old stories in progressively quieter voices, both drifting off into sleep.

**

Jaime woke up to a shaft of light striking his face. He grumbled and rolled over, bumping into a warm body next to him. Opening his eyes, he took in the sight of Brienne, mouth slightly open and hair a wild mess. He laughed a little to himself. She looked ridiculous.

He wandered off to use the bathroom and when he returned, he snagged a slice of cold pizza from the box on the floor and fell into bed next to her.

Brienne’s eyes opened the barest amount. “Are you eating floor pizza?”

“Waste not, want not,” Jaime said in a sing song voice as he pushed the last of the crust into his mouth.

“You’re a monster, Jaime Lannister,” Brienne said, flopping onto her back. “Gods, I haven’t stayed up that late in years.”

“Want me to make us some coffee?” he offered.

“Do you even know how to make coffee?”

“Excuse me, of course I do,” he replied, tossing a pillow at her which she caught deftly. “I’ll prove it to you.”

Hopping out of bed, he picked up his shirt from where it was discarded on the rug and pulled it over his head before heading into the kitchen to make his point.

It took a little longer than he would have liked—he had to dig out her coffee which was some awful tinned thing and he resolved to buy her nice coffee every month for the foreseeable future. Brienne wandered out of the bedroom, rumpled and sleepy and it made Jaime want to pull her into a kiss. The romantic thought quickly turned lurid as he pictured bending her over the couch and fucking her until they were both a sweating mess.

She came up next to him and crossed her arms as she leaned against the counter. “Looks promising,” she said, surveying the coffee pot.

“I’m not totally helpless.”

“We’ll see,” she said with a smirk. 

As she pulled out some fresh fruit and milk for the coffee, he blurted, “Come with me to Elia’s wedding.”

She paused with the refrigerator door open. “You want me to go to your ex’s wedding?”

“It’ll be more fun if you’re there,” he argued, a hint of a whine threatening to overtake his voice. 

“Isn’t it in Dorne?” she asked, hesitant.

“If it’s about the flight, I can pay—”

“No, I can pay. But I—a destination wedding? We haven’t been dating for very long, Jaime, and I might not be an expert but isn’t it, I don’t know, a little early?”

“Fuck that,” he said with no little amount of determination as he approached her and pulled her into his arms. “We can set our own pace and I choose the pace wherein my girlfriend goes with me to my ex’s wedding so that I can actually have a good time and also rub in everyone’s face how happy I am.”

Brienne smiled a little secret smile, equal parts pleased and uncertain.”I think at this point you could talk me into anything you know.”

Jaime laughed. “I doubt that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> skip to "Jaime got up and washed down his stomach"


	10. Paintball

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime and Brienne go paintballing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for some sexy times in this chapter and also discussion of guns (paintball ones)

Brienne dug through her spare clothes drawer, tugging out her oldest jeans that she only wore for housework. She scraped her hair back from her forehead and considered a hairband. The strands were getting longer than she normally wore it, but she’d been playing with the idea of growing it out for a while. She’d asked Jaime what he thought and he’d replied in a usual nonchalant fashion.

“You always look great. Have you ever had longer hair?” he asked, looking up from his phone and  tilting his head in that curious way of his.

She had shaken her head and he had replied, “Well, you can try it and if you hate it you can cut it. It’s just hair. I’ve been thinking about growing mine out too. Did you know I used to have long hair?” 

He had absentmindedly scrubbed a hand through his hair and then declared, “Pact: I won’t cut my hair as long as you don’t cut yours.”

They’d shook hands on it.

She put on her old jeans and pulled a ratty blue shirt over her head. It had several holes in the hem and the decal on the front—5K for Alzheimer’s—was almost entirely faded.

She jammed her keys into her pocket and grabbed her purse before leaving the house at the chirp of her phone. Jaime was waiting for her downstairs.

When she climbed into the front seat of his far too fancy car, he gave her a toothy grin and said, “Are you ready to get creamed?”

“I’m ready to shoot you in the chest,” Brienne said, snapping the seat belt into place.

“Oh ho ho, so you think. I’m crafty, Tarth.” He put the car in gear and pulled out into the road.

Jaime had finally called on her to use the paintball gift certificates and she had momentarily regretted giving them to him. Over the weeks she had discovered Jaime was wildly competitive. He was a good loser, but gods he was a sore winner. He liked nothing better than rubbing her face in a loss.

Not one to be outdone, she made sure to give as good as she got whenever she won. Which was usually how things turned out.

“Well if your aim with a paintball gun is anything like your aim with a bowling ball, I’m not worried,” Brienne said breezily.

“I thought we agreed to never discuss that.”

“I remember no such agreement.”

Jaime shot her a dirty look.

When they got to the paintball place, the very bored proprietor explained the rules—minimum distance, no face shots, always wear your mask, three strikes and you’re out—and the equipment and then left them to their own devices. Brienne strapped on her gear quickly and turned to Jaime who was struggling with a few buckles. Shaking her head, she said, “Want some help?”

“If I say yes, will you make fun of me?”

“Only a little,” she said with a small smile as she tugged the straps down for him.

She slicked her hair back and pulled on the mask, gesturing for Jaime to do the same. Both armored and with gun in hand they exited into the arena where the sound of the paintball guns going off reached their ears. 

“10 minutes to get the opposite end of the field and then you’re on?” Brienne shouted through the mask. 

Jaime’s response was a brisk nod before he took off through the manmade obstacles and metal barriers. A person appeared around the corner dove behind Brienne who scurried away from the action to get to her own hiding place. She needed to find a place to camp out. A few meters away she climbed up a plastic boulder with a blind on top and squatted behind the wooden slats. She was a little too tall to be completely obscured so she resigned herself to keeping her head visible and scanning the area for Jaime.

A flash of golden hair off to her right drew her attention and she fired off a shot. It struck a fence with a splat of yellow and she grunted in frustration. She heard Jaime’s distinctive laughter dissipate behind the obstacle and she told herself to be patient. Patience was her strength. Especially compared to Jaime.

The slap of a paintball sounded below her chin surprised her as it slammed into the wood underneath her, the blue paint splattering up onto her mask, obscuring her vision slightly. She swiped the paint away. Splatter didn’t count. She hopped out of the blind and plastered her back against the boulder. Before she could take in her surroundings, Jaime appeared next to her and fired his gun, the paintball striking her square in the chest.

The intercom blazed to life as Brienne coughed to get the air back into her lungs. “Maintain minimum distance,” a bored voice intoned. “That’s strike one.”

“You have to shoot from 15 feet away,” Brienne wheezed. Jaime reached out for her in concern and she used his distraction to dash the minimum distance away before pulling the trigger. A satisfying yellow streak colored his shoulder.

“You cheat!” Jaime shouted from across the field.

“You literally broke the rules!” she shot back, ducking behind a conveniently placed car door that was slathered in paint stains.

The metal of the door dinged with the impact of Jaime’s shots. Brienne rubbed away the lingering pain in her chest—that would definitely bruise.

They were one to one and she was out to win.

**

“Gods, that last dive, I really thought you’d break your arm,” Jaime said, shaking his head as he jammed another handful of fries into his mouth.

Brienne swallowed the bite of her burger and took a sip of her soda. “I know how to fall without getting injured, Jaime. Self defense and all.”

“Really playing dirty, getting me to worry about you like that.” Finished with his fries, Jaime took some of hers.

She swatted at his wandering hand with her burger and he waggled his eyebrows. The exertion of their afternoon had matted his hair with sweat, it curled over his ears. She was sure she looked similar if less brilliant, the redness in her cheeks making her look sallow in a way Jaime never could.

“It was a tie, Jaime so don’t be such a cry baby,” Brienne said. She wiped her hands on a napkin and collected their trash to throw away. Jaime had insisted on fast food burgers after their bout at the paintball arena. He’d pulled off the highway with an excited declaration and Brienne really had no recourse but to follow along.

Jaime smiled at her, a dopey look overtaking his face, a look that made her heart swell with affection. He tugged on her paint stained sleeve and said, “I had a really great time. Thanks for the suggestion.”

Brienne shrugged, a little overwhelmed by the gratitude in light of the emotions already running through her.  “Yeah it was nice.”

He opened the door for her and asked as she walked out, “So do you want me to take you home?”

Brienne thought about the condoms she had optimistically purchased on Tuesday on her way home from work. Condoms that she had even more optimistically jammed into the bag she had brought with her. “Maybe we could go to your place,” she said tentatively, making Jaime grin brightly.

“Absolutely.”

The drive back to Jaime’s apartment felt tense. Well, maybe it only felt tense to Brienne as her mind wandered to the possibility of actually having sex with Jaime. They’d done nearly everything else. And she didn’t feel pressured or anything.

But she did feel nervous. 

So nervous.

When they got to his place, Jaime let her use the bathroom where she showered and changed into the extra clothes she had brought. 

After they were both done cleaning up, Jaime came out of his bedroom humming tunelessly and Brienne clenched her hands in her lap and said, “So, sex.”

Jaime slammed his shin into the coffee table and swore loudly.

“What?” he said through gritted teeth. Brienne looked at him with wide eyes but steel resolve.

“Sex. We haven’t had it.”

Jaime lowered himself cautiously into an armchair and rubbed at his abused shin. “That is accurate. And?”

“I think we should.”

“What? Now?” he asked incredulously, clearly thrown off by her direct demeanor.

“When else?”

“I mean, when you’re ready?”

“I think it’s more likely one of those things where you rip the bandaid off.”

“It doesn’t have to be.”

“Well, isn’t that for me to decide? It’s my virginity.”

“Um...sure?”

“I think it’s my decision.”

“Why are we fighting about this?” Jaime asked, blinking in confusion.

“We’re not fighting.”

“Seems like we’re fighting.”

Brienne groaned. “Look, I want to have sex with you.”

“I want to have sex with you too,” Jaime said blandly.

“So let’s have sex.”

“Ok.”

“Ok.”

They stared at each other.

“Right now?” Jaime asked.

Brienne nodded.

“Nothing to set the mood? Just like...now?” 

Brienne nodded again, trying her best to maintain her resolve. She could see the gears revolving in Jaime’s head at the abrupt turn she had taken.

“What if I don’t want to?”

Brienne deflated. “I didn’t think about that.”

Jaime burst out laughing. “Gods, you’re like a freight train.”

“I know what I want,” Brienne said, bristling a little and trying to defend herself.

Jaime leaned forward and put his elbows on his knees, hands folded in front of him. “I didn’t do anything to make you feel like...like you had to do this, right?”

“No. I’ve just thought about it and made a decision,” she said firmly.

Jaime fell silent and considered her for a moment. She refused to squirm under his scrutiny. “I don’t have any condoms,” he said finally.

She stood up and retrieved the ones she brought from her purse, handing them to him. “I brought some.”

“Uhhhh,” he said, mouth falling open and staring at the handful of packets she had thrust into his hand.

“Ok, yeah, sure,” he said, clearly dazed, his chin tipped up to look at her where she stood over him.

“Would you be a bit more enthusiastic if I offered to throw you over my shoulder and carry you to bed?” Brienne said, feeling wicked and playful.

His gaze focused and he turned slightly pink. “Don’t tease.”

“Oh I’m entirely serious.”

She spun around the chair and hefted him up over her shoulder into a fireman’s carry. He wasn’t light so she grunted with the effort almost missing Jaime’s high pitched “eep.”

“You can’t just—you—” Jaime gave up on speaking as she went into his room and tossed him on the bed.

“Like that?” she asked, rolling her shoulders to relieve the tension from lifting him.

“Fuck,” he breathed, head tipping back against the pillows.

“So yes,” she said, smiling. She shucked off her pants and shirt and crawled into the bed, rising up on her knees before saying, “Take off your clothes.”

Despite how flustered he seemed, Jaime came back into himself and smirked. The expression made Brienne feel like she was burning, like she should look away, but she held her ground and simply raised an eyebrow in challenge. 

“Take off your clothes,” she repeated. Jaime complied, his eyes never leaving hers as he pulled off each article of clothing.

When he was finally naked, Brienne ran her hands down his chest, relishing the firm feel of his muscles and the way they jumped under her touch. 

“Why am I totally naked if you get to keep your underwear on?” Jaime asked, reaching out to grab her hips.

Brienne rolled her eyes but took everything off, taking the opportunity to straddle him. He made a little huffing noise and when their eyes met, Brienne couldn’t resist kissing him. Feeling bold, she leaned down and kissed him deeply, long and languorous until he was moaning into her mouth and she could feel his hardness pressing into her. Her belly felt warm and tight, a sensation she had begun to associate with Jaime, with being in his bed.

When she began to trail kisses down his neck and chest—he smelled like his soap, fresh from the shower, warm pine—he sucked in a wavering breath and said, “Gods, you’re so sexy. You smell amazing. I want your mouth. Will you?”

Brienne hummed and continued down his body, happy to oblige. She loved the way he fell apart under her, the breathy way he said her name, the salty, earthen taste of him.

“Yes, fuck, just like that. Gods, your mouth. So hot. Perfect,” he said, rambling a steady stream of words as she went to work.

Eventually, he stopped talking and tugged on her hair, pulling her back up into a kiss. “If you keep going, I won’t last, and I thought you had other plans for today.”

He tried to say it with a smile, teasing as always, but it came out desperate. When he went to flip them over, Brienne didn’t expect it and they became a tangle of elbows and knees, Jaime laughing when she blew her hair out of her face. 

“Not how I planned that,” he said, warm and slightly chagrined.

She laughed too, a little more uncomfortable than he seemed, but eventually he distracted her with his hands—deft between her legs—and his mouth—warm on her breasts, until she was coming apart with her arms wrapped around his back. 

He smiled into her collarbone, running his fingers up and down her thighs as her breath steadied. She opened her eyes and said, “Sex now?”

Jaime rolled his eyes. “One track mind aren’t you?”

Brienne grabbed a condom from where they had fallen on the bed and tossed it to him. He caught the little foil packet and tore it open, rolling it his down his length before coming down over her, holding his body up on one elbow, as he lined himself up.

“I’m gonna go slow and you’re gonna have to  _ let _ me go slow. And tell me if anything hurts,” Jaime said, staring into her eyes and waiting for agreement.

She nodded. “I’ll tell you. Now fuck me.”

Jaime made a strangled noise before sinking into her, the sensation of being filled strange and intimate. She had expected it to hurt but it only felt odd. And then it felt good, and then they were moving and she couldn’t believe how wonderful it was.

Time seemed suspended as they moved together and all too soon Jaime was shaking against her, his movements stuttered as he tucked his face into her neck and she dug her fingers into his back.

A few moments passed filled only with their breathing before he pulled back and said, “Was that ok?”

Brienne had to pull herself back into her body to answer. “Yeah, it was great.”

Jaime went to the bathroom to clean himself up and Brienne lounged on the bed, her body feeling warm and light.

“You look comfortable,” Jaime said when came into the bedroom, still naked and looking glorious.

“I feel good,” Brienne said. 

Jaime laughed, full of affection. “Good. Did it live up to the hype?”

Brienne hummed. “Can we do it again?”

“My, my, Tarth. Insatiable are we?”

Brienne glared at him. He just chuckled. “You’ll have to give me a bit before we go again.”

Brienne tried to not let her disappointment show on her face. 

“But that doesn’t mean we can’t do anything else.”

Jaime came up to the bed and pulled her to him, kissing his way down her body.

**

Brienne brushed her teeth and smiled at herself in the mirror. She felt relaxed. She felt happy.

Wandering out into the living room, her breath caught in her throat at the sight of Jaime, clad in soft pajama pants with his legs up on the coffee table, glasses perched on his nose and a serious expression on his face as he stared at the screen of his laptop.

He looked up when she came in and a smile lit his face. “Hey sweetheart.”

“Everything ok?” she asked, tucking herself in next to him.

“I’m looking up flights for the wedding.”

Ever since Jaime had asked her to go to the wedding in Dorne, they hadn’t really discussed details. Brienne knew they’d have to hash them out eventually with the wedding only two months away.

He scratched at his five o’clock shadow and focused back on the screen. “Would you be ok paying the base fare if I pay for the first class upgrade? I really don’t want to be stuck in economy for a six hour flight.”

Brienne shrugged as she pushed down her desire to reject the offer. “I don’t want you to have to pay for me.”

“I’m thinking of it as a compromise,” Jaime said.

“Fine, fine I’ve never been in first class though,” she said, not feeling like pushing too hard. She put her head on his shoulder as he clicked through the website. 

“We can get drunk for free and they also give you food,” Jaime said and Brienne laughed a little at his frank reply.

“Done,” he announced. “Two tickets to Dorne for the week of July 5th.”

He shut his laptop and put his arm around her. “Are you hungry?”

Even though they’d eaten lunch somewhat late, she already felt ravenous. Probably from all their...activities that afternoon. She nodded.

“I’ve got chicken piccata if that interests you,” he offered and they went into the kitchen together to put it all together.

It felt domestic.

“You look happy,” Jaime commented as they dug into their food. 

“I am,” Brienne replied frankly. And she was. It was startling how bright she felt. "Can I stay over tonight?"

"I'd love if you would."

They smiled at each other across the table and Brienne reveled in the way her heart skipped.


	11. Moving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime and Brienne help Sansa move.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings at the end
> 
> i call Tarth "the Sapphire Isle" because it would be weird of Brienne's last name was Tarth and so was the island where she was from imo

Jaime slipped the headband over his forehead to hold back his swiftly growing hair as he watched Brienne carefully wrap cups in towels and bags before stacking them in the cardboard box.

Sansa fluttered into the kitchen and hovered around Brienne who shooed her away. “Finish packing your clothes, Jaime and I can handle the kitchen.”

“Just be careful with the china, it was—”

“Your grandmother’s,” Jaime and Brienne chimed in unison.

Sansa apologized for her nerves before rushing out of the kitchen. According to Brienne, she’d only ever lived in this apartment and when her and Sandor found out their leases came up at the same time they decided to move in together. Apparently, Sansa already spent almost all her time at Sandor’s and it only made sense for them to find their own place together.

Brienne had made a comment about how moving in together only four months into a relationship was a little fast and Jaime had bit his tongue to hold back a confession about how much he’d been thinking he’d love to wake up to Brienne every day.

He sometimes thought about what it would be like to have her in his bed every night, to have her shampoo in his shower, to mingle her knick knacks in with his sterile boring decorations. She would bring such life to his apartment.

They could get a cat.

Jaime took his own small box from the pile by the door and emptied the utensil drawer into the bottom of it slowly stacking kitchen odds and ends over the pile of spatulas and whisks.

“You’re miserable at this,” Brienne said, looking over at his haphazard work.

“Hey, it’s packed,” he said, putting the spice rack on top of the paper towel holder.

“There’s packing and then there’s packing  _ efficiently _ ,” Brienne pointed out. She smoothed out the carefully packed box of dishware and lifted it experimentally to test the weight. She nodded and then tapped it shut before opening a marker and labeling it in big bold letters DISHES.

She hefted the box and walked it to the front door where Bronn and Sandor were steadily walking boxes out into the truck. Jaime watched the sway of her hips and smirked to himself, thinking back to how quickly Brienne had adjusted to the sexual aspect of their relationship. When she’d first confessed her inexperience, he had resigned himself to months of going slow and instead Brienne had slammed through his expectations in absolutely the best way. She seemed to do that a lot.

When she returned to the kitchen, Jaime had a moment of dissonance, thinking about how others probably saw Brienne. Tall, broad shouldered, crooked teeth and a smattering of dark freckles that only made her look more washed out It made his heart twist to think people would see anything besides a kind, honest, strong woman who took no shit and could crush a man under her heel. He’d seen her at that bar and her face had had no bearing on his attraction to her. And now it was something he was unbearably fond of.

Brienne cocked her head and Jaime realized he’d been staring at her. “Sorry, I was thinking how hot you look in those jeans.”

Brienne’s eyes went wide and she said, “You can’t just  _ say _ things like that.”

“Why not? It’s the truth,” Jaime replied innocently.

“There are other people here and they will  _ hear _ you,” Brienne hissed.

As if on cue, Bronn strolled into the kitchen. “Is there any food? Moving’s hungry work.”

Brienne gestured at the fruit bowl and Bronn picked up an apple, rubbing it on his jeans to take off the wax. He’d just come back from packing the truck with Sansa’s couch and his wrinkled face shining with a thin layer of sweat. Just as winter had transformed quickly into spring, it was now edging into summer, King’s Landing taking on it’s usual humidity and heat. It wasn’t ideal moving weather but it was better than the rain they would have gotten the weekend before.

Tyrion appeared and came up to the counter, snagging a banana from the bunch and peeling it open. Brienne took another box and began filling it with the cleaning supplies from under the cupboard and then took the box to the bathroom to grab the supplies that were undoubtedly stored there.

Tyrion bit into the banana and looked Jaime up and down. “You look disturbingly happy,” he announced.

Bronn nodded sagely. “It’s unnerving.”

“I take it things are going well,” Tyrion continued. Jaime taped up the box he had been working on and then scrawled KITCHEN across the side. 

“They are going very well, thank you,” Jaime said curtly, not sure if he wanted to continue with this line of questioning. He loved his brother dearly but he was both nosy and a gossip and Jaime had no idea how far any of this conversation would travel.

“I heard you invited her to the Martell wedding,” Tyrion said casually. The loud crunch of Bronn biting into his apple punctuated the space. 

Jaime crossed his arms over his chest and frowned. “Who told you that?”

“Cersei. She’s the maid of honor. Matron,” Tyrion said correcting himself.

“Are you going?” Jaime asked, dodging the question. Tyrion looked at him sharply but answered anyway.

“Of course I’m going. Do you think Father would risk us snubbing the Martells  _ or _ the Targaryens?”

Jaime hummed, momentarily distracted by the clattering he heard down the hall from where Brienne had begun packing the bathroom.

“You know Father’s going to be there too,” Tyrion warned and Jaime whipped his head to look at him.

“Ah I see you didn’t consider that.”

Jaime hadn’t. It had all been very spur of the moment. He had decided he wanted Brienne with him so he had asked. “It’ll be fine,” he said dismissively. If he said it enough, maybe it would be true.

Tyrion pursed his lips. 

“Maybe she could meet him before the whole ordeal? Take the pressure off?” he ventured under Tyrion’s scrutiny.

“Up to you,” Tyrion said with a shrug. “Have your little wedding Cinderalla moment. I’m sure it will be very romantic even if Father is staring you down,” Tyrion said. He flipped the empty banana peel closed and crossed the kitchen in search of the trash can, filled with balled up tape and discarded items that Sansa didn’t want to keep. Turning back to Jaime, the perpetual laughter fell from Tyrion’s face and he said, “You really like her don’t you?”

“I really like her,” Jaime confirmed, still staring down the hall. The desire to see Brienne, to leave this conversation, grew inside him until he had no choice but to succumb to the pull of her presence.

“Well ain’t that bloody nice,” Bronne grunted but Jaime ignored him to trail after Brienne, picking through the half packed boxes and trash strewn about the living room.

He heard the murmuring voices of Sandor and Sansa packing in her bedroom, not arguing but talking vehemently about something. 

Jaime found Brienne squatting in the bathroom, digging the cleaning supplies out from under the sink and stacking them into the cardboard box she had brought with her. He kicked the door shut behind himself and locked it.

The snick of the lock drew her attention and she looked up at him. “Are you ok?” she asked, eyebrows drawn together, toilet cleaner clutched in her big hand.

Jaime took the bottle from her and chucked it unceremoniously into the box on the floor before taking her hands and lifting her into a standing position. “I really like you,” he announced. She blinked at him in confusion and searched his face for an explanation. Her blue eyes shone in the warm light of the vanity.

“I really like you too?” she replied tentatively. Jaime cupped her cheek and kissed her softly. Gods, he wanted her. 

“I like you,” he repeated before closing the distance again. Brienne melted against the sink, her sudden pliability almost as arousing as her forcefulness. Jaime was starting to think he liked both sides of Brienne equally, the shy girl and the take no shit woman.

He crowded her against the sink and felt her shiver under his hands as he fiddled with the button of her jeans. When she didn’t stop him, their kisses turned bruising and he quickly removed her pants. Pushing her up until she was perched on the edge of the sink, he pressed between her legs and she rubbed against the hardness in his jeans, unabashed as she nibbled on his lower lip.

“Condom,” she gasped against his mouth and he regretted not putting one in his wallet. He opened the medicine cabinet behind her and found a purple box alongside a razor and some medication.

Brienne didn’t protest when he pulled one out, fumbling to get it on as quickly as possible. Her pupils nearly eclipsed the blue of her eyes as he sunk into her, the tight sensation forcing the breath from his lungs. She let out a little moan as he gripped her hair in both hands, cupping her head so he could pull her into a grueling kiss.

It was fast and desperate and he didn’t know what inside him was driving him at this pace, but the noises Brienne made did nothing to slow him down. With each stroke, the medicine cabinet shuddered, the sound of pills shaking in their containers accompanying their movements. When he dropped a hand to her clit to try to bring her over the edge with him, she batted his hand away. “Doesn’t matter,” she gasped. “Just this. Just like this.”

Her breathy words against his ear made him shudder as his muscles clenched in orgasm, pleasure flooding him from head to toe. She ran her hands down his back, and made a happy noise. She pulled back and gave him a crooked grin, reaching up to pull the headband from his hair. “You look silly.”

“I’m not the one half naked on a sink,” he retorted, pulling out to clean himself up. 

Brienne kicked out with one of her legs and caught him in the hip. He yelped. “You started it!”

Jaime just hummed as he put himself together. Brienne glowered as she pulled her pants back on.

She rubbed a hand over her face and said, “I can’t believe I just had sex in a bathroom.”

“Yes, but did you  _ enjoy _ having sex in the bathroom?” Jaime asked, grabbing her hips and pulling her against him.

Brienne looked down, her cheeks flushed from their coupling. “Maybe.”

Jaime gave her a chaste kiss and opened the bathroom door. “Now stop dallying, we have work to do.”

He ignored Brienne’s irritated groan as he strode down the hallway.

**

Sansa rolled the golf ball across the wooden floor, narrowly missing Jaime’s drink where it was sat on the ground next to his knee. He scooped it up and shook it in his hand.

He hummed in consideration, trying to figure out what to say next.

After all their work that afternoon, Sansa had a final night in the apartment. She had gone down the street and picked up a few pizzas and several bottles of wine, determined to give her apartment a proper send off. The lot of them were seated in a circle on her living room floor, half empty pizza boxes strewn around them and each toting a full plastic cup of wine as they played a rather raucous game of never-have-i-ever. It was the usual crowd from the RK, but also one of Sansa’s friends Margaery, a pretty brunette who would have maybe caught Jaime’s eye several months ago before he had met Brienne. The girl kept making eyes at Bronn for whatever unfathomable reason.

“Never have I ever broken a bone,” Jaime announced, holding up his four fingered hand. He’d had to put his thumb down when Sansa announced that she had never been to Braavos.

Sandor, Brienne, and Bronn put their fingers down. Bronn downed the rest of the wine in his cup, drinking more than was strictly necessary. Jaime rolled the golf ball they had randomly discovered in the freezer across the few inches separating him and Brienne and she scooped it up. “Never have I ever kissed a woman,” she announced.

Everyone put down a finger, forcing Brienne to drink and put down one of her own. She looked at Sansa slightly scandalized. “You never told me!”

The redhead shrugged. “It was high school and I had never kissed anyone before. I wanted to practice.”

Sandor laughed. “You are a strange little bird.”

Brienne grumbled and took a swig of her wine—it was decent stuff, something from Dorne—before rolling the ball to Tyrion.

“Never have I ever had sex in this apartment.”

Jaime glared at Tyrion who just grinned back. The little bastard was far too perceptive. As expected Sansa and Sandor put down fingers—a little less expected so did Margaery, which Sansa didn’t seem surprised about. However, when Jaime and Brienne put down their fingers, Sansa said to Jaime, “But, you’ve never been here before—”

She broke off and turned slightly red. “When did you possibly find the time?”

“Oh you can always find the time,” Tyrion smirked into his cup.

Sandor’s laugh from earlier bubbled up until the big man was hunched over his knees practically cackling. “And I thought I had trouble keeping my hands off of you,” he said to Sansa, wiping a tear from his eye.

Margaery looked at Brienne an appraising expression on her face. “I think I’m proud of you.”

Her frank comment and Brienne’s ensuing horrified expression caused a ripple of laughter to pass through the group until they had all dissolved into giggles.

When all the wine was drunk and the pizza boxes discarded, the group disbanded and made their stumbling ways to their respective homes—some more intoxicated than others.

Brienne had somehow paced herself far better than Jaime and was walking him back to her place, one hand on his elbow and trying to steer him in a straight line. Everything was fuzzy and he felt warm and happy and Brienne was there beside him and it was just  _ good. _

“This was a good day. A great day. You’re great,” Jaime rambled, looking up into the sky. The smog of King’s Landing prevented seeing the stars but the lights of the city illuminated the clouds in pinks and oranges. It was pretty.

“That’s very nice of you to say,” Brienne said dryly, yanking him closer to her when he drifted to the left.

There was a small sound in the alley they were passing and Jaime found himself against a wall as Brienne was suddenly no longer beside him. He turned his attention after her and saw a man dressed in dark colors, trying to yank a bag from a woman’s hands.

Brienne grabbed the man and tossed him aside like a doll. Jaime heard his gasp even from his position several yards away. The woman clutched her bag to her chest as the man scrambled away.

“You ok?” Brienne asked, and the woman nodded wide eyed. “Do you live near here? We can walk you home.”

The woman nodded and joined their little group. Jaime kept replaying the way Brienne had practically lifted that man off his feet, the fierce look in her eyes when she helped the woman. 

Jaime knew Brienne was a good person. There was proof of it in every action. What he hadn’t realized, he was discovering, was that she was  _ noble _ . 

The woman thanked them profusely at the end of the two block walk before rushing up her stairs. 

Jaime’s mind was whirling with drink and when Brienne herded him up the stairs of her apartment building, he let her lead the way.

He collapsed on her couch as she puttered about her apartment, changing into pajamas and putting the kettle on. “I’m going to make some chamomile tea,” she said. “Want any?”

“Water’s fine,” Jaime replied, still deep in thought. When he had asked Brienne out initially, it had been out of the sheer visceral attraction he had felt to her strength. That had changed quickly into an admiration for her humor, her resilience, her kindness.

When Brienne came into the living room and handed him a cup of water, their hands brushed and Jaime was struck by the sudden realization:  _ I’m in love with her. _

“My family is having a party for the Summer Solstice. You should come,” Jaime said. He remembered Tyrion’s advice from earlier. Maybe it was better if she met the family before the wedding.

The kettle whistled in the kitchen and Brienne hurried away to make her tea.

When she returned she settled on the far end of the sofa so far away from him that Jaime was momentarily worried he had offended her. 

“I always go back to the Isle for the Summer Solstice weekend,” she said.

Jaime’s stomach dropped. He supposed it made sense. Brienne had had a life before him and he couldn’t entirely derail her plans just because he wanted to have her meet his family—and maybe protect him from his family if he was being honest about his motives.

“Maybe we could do both?” she asked tentatively, eyes trained on the tea in her cup. “When’s your family’s party?”

Jaime disappointment quickly turned to excitement. “Monday. It’s always the Monday after the Solstice weekend.”

Westeros basically shut down for the Summer Solstice, Monday used for celebrating the return of the warm months, a vestige of the time in Westerosi history when winters lasted longer and summers were desperately needed.

“Well, we could take the ferry to the Sapphire Isle on Saturday morning. Stay until Sunday and come back for Monday?”

Jaime nodded enthusiastically. “That sounds fantastic.”

“We’ve got a couple weeks to plan. Maybe we can talk more in the morning? I think you should get to bed,” Brienne said, looking him over.

“Only if you come with me,” he said with a smirk.

“We are going to bed to  _ sleep _ , Jaime. To  _ sleep _ ,” she said firmly.

And despite Jaime’s best intentions, he was asleep before his head even hit the pillow, thoughts of blue water the color of Brienne’s eyes playing through his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: sexy times, mild description of physical assault
> 
> at the beginning of this chapter i talk about how jaime looks at Brienne and sees her "ugliness" but with affection. this description comes from personal experience. ive dated folks who aren't "traditionally attractive" and when id look at them sometimes id see them how other people saw them as unattractive but still be deeply attracted to them and it was a strange cognitive dissonance that i tried to convey here. i hope it didn't come across negatively or like jaime is being a dick but attractiveness is so relative and how society makes us see attractiveness versus what we are attracted to is so weird (and if braime isn't evidence of that i dont know what is lol)
> 
> also! thanks for all your lovely comments! i cant believe how much folks are liking this story which im basically writing as a balm for my broken heart after the ending of s8. glad folks are feeling the love!


	12. The Beach

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime and Brienne go to the beach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some melancholy vibes in this chapter  
> still sweet tho i swear!

Brienne breathed in the salty sea air and turned to Jaime who looked a little green around the gills. The ferry from the mainland to the Sapphire Isle went over smooth waters but it was clear to Brienne that he didn’t have much experience at sea.

Jaime squinted his eyes shut and Brienne suppressed a chuckle. “How much longer?” he asked through gritted teeth.

The ferry was full of cars waiting to dock and a few dozen people milling about. Brienne and Jaime had decided no to bring another vehicle since they didn’t really need one to get around the island. When Brienne had sold her father’s estate further inland, she had kept the small cottage by the sea where she had so many fond memories. It was where she always stayed when she visited.

“Just thirty more minutes, Jaime,” she said, squeezing his hand. He looked at her gratefully.

“Tell me something about the island,” he said and then he took a deep breath as if to steady himself.

Brienne hummed as she rubbed her thumb across the back of his hand, hoping the sensation would distract him from his nausea. “If you go far enough inland the woods get thick. The further up the mountains you go, the denser the forest. My nanny used to say that in the deep woods you could run into fairies and trolls and all sorts of magic. When my father took me and brother deer hunting for the first time, both of us were obsessed with catching a glimpse of the things our nanny had told us about. Obviously we didn’t see anything. But the woods really did feel magical.”

Jaime looked up at her through his lashes, green eyes alight. “Hunting?”

“My dad took us for all the seasons. Duck, deer, fish. I didn’t love the actual hunting but I liked spending time with my dad.”

Jaime choked out a laugh. “You didn’t strike me as the type to enjoy hunting. Too gentle.”

Brienne scowled. She’d never been called gentle before. Even from his half-curled position gripping the railing, Jaime caught her expression and waved his hand. “Gentle disposition. Spirit.”

Apparently the talking was too much because he faced the railing and gagged over the side. Brienne rubbed his back as fellow passengers gave the two of them a wide berth when Jaime continued to wretch into the swirling waters. “When I was a kid, my favorite thing in the world was the beach. I’d whine all year long for my dad to take us there. It was never too far away but the roads were winding and dangerous for me to go on my bike so I had to wait until summer when we’d stay seaside. You won’t believe the beach, Jaime. It’s nothing like the one’s on the mainland. I’ll take you to see the tidepools. Starfish, hermit crabs. We can climb the dune at the far end of the beach. There’s a swimming hole on the other side where the water’s warmer.”

Jaime mumbled something she couldn’t hear so she stopped talking. “What did you say?” she asked, still rubbing his back.

“If we’re going swimming, you’d have better brought a bikini,” he repeated, trying to grin at her but the effect was somewhat lost due to his glassy eyes. Brienne shook her head at his ridiculousness and handed him a water bottle so he could rinse his mouth.

“Bikinis are for girls like Sansa. Girls with things to show off,” Brienne said when she took back the water bottle and screwed the cap on perhaps with a little more aggression than was necessary. 

“Bikinis are for all girls and they’re  _ definitely _ for my girlfriend,” Jaime said, a little less shaky now that the vomiting had passed. “If you didn’t bring one, I’m taking you to buy one.”

“What if I refuse to go?” Brienne replied archly, raising an eyebrow. The man could be insufferable.  _ Don’t pretend you don’t like it _ , a little voice in her head whispered. She shushed it firmly.

“Then I’ll buy you one myself and it’ll be the skimpiest, most revealing option.”

Brienne gaped at him but he continued. “However, if you come with me, you can choose your own.”

The ferry began to slow as they reached the main dock. “Fine,” Brienne huffed. “You are an absolute pain sometimes.”

“Yes but you love it,” he said, some of his usual vigor returning with the slowing of the boat as if he could sense their approach to dry land. 

Ignoring him, Brienne nudged his arm. “Grab your things. We’re here.”

Brienne only let him take his smallest bag, shouldering the majority of the burden. When he tried to protest, she fixed him with a  _ look _ and said, “I’m not the one who was just puking my guts out into the ocean.”

That had shut him up.

They shuffled off the ferry with the other passengers before the ferryman began the short journey to where the cars could disembark as well. The Isle wasn’t the primary vacation destination for Westeros, not with tropical locations such as Dorne or even the southern beaches of the mainland just a short trip away. It was more rugged, made for those who truly loved nature instead of those looking for a party or a tan. Not that the pubs on the Sapphire Isle weren’t any good, nor was the sun lacking. It was just that the beaches were windy and the surf unpredictable, good for a skilled surfer but dangerous for a layperson. No, the vacationers of the Isle were there for the shops and the food and, for some of them, there for the fishing and hiking, the mountains inland full of meandering trails of various difficulties. 

“Wow, that’s a smell,” Jaime said, coughing when they walked into the street.

“Breathe through your mouth,” Brienne instructed. The smell of the fishery right off the dock could be quite pungent, especially in the summer months when the weather turned closer to seventy degrees. 

“I feel like I can taste it,” Jaime said so Brienne picked up the pace and hurried them down the boardwalk past the curio shops and restaurants. When she turned them up the hill that would begin the journey to her family’s beach house the smell finally dissipated and Jaime breathed a dramatic sigh of relief.

Once over the hill, the road began to descend again, winding around patches of trees and jagged outcroppings until they came to a main street lined with restaurants and antique shops. It was touristy but it was quaint and Brienne smiled when they passed the bookshop she frequented as a child. Beyond the last building—a cute inn called the Bulb & Bloom—Brienne hung a left and walked down a sandy path through the dune grass and sand smoothed rocks past a  _ private property  _ sign attached to a worn fence post into the backyard of the house that Brienne thought of so fondly. A brief gust of wind hissed through the grass and tossed sand over her feet as she continued toward the gray sided house. A small slatted porch stuck out over the back door that Brienne knew from experience was a great place to sit and have coffee in the mornings. She would need to dig up the deck chairs from the basement.

She turned to look at Jaime who seemed to be surveying the entire area with awe. Smiling gently to herself, she stuck the key in the lock and pushed the door open. The musty sea smell of the unused house hit her and she decided they would open the windows to air it out. Pulling out her phone she turned on the flashlight app before setting their bags on the couch. The Tarths had always turned off the water and electric when they left the house, keeping it boarded up and essentially abandoned in the off season. “I’ve got to go reset the fuse box. I’ll be right back.”

The basement smelled even mustier than the rest of the house, dust beginning to encroach further in the main storage area. Brienne resolved to either take a week off and come out to clean the place or pay someone to do it. The house was falling into disrepair without regular care and she’d hate to see it go under.

When she got back upstairs, she flipped on the light by the basement door, illuminating the entryway and part of the living room. She saw Jaime standing by the fireplace, holding a picture frame. He turned when he heard the door shut and held up the picture. “This your family?”

Brienne nodded, her throat a little tight, before turning to kick off her shoes, not wanting to track sand through the house. Being here always reminded her of her family. Sometimes that was a good thing and sometimes it wasn’t.

Jaime didn’t press her, just put the frame back on the mantle where he had picked it up. “Is the water on? I’d like to brush my teeth.”

Brienne shook her head and hurried outside to turn the water back on. When she came back inside, she gave Jaime the go ahead and he disappeared into the bathroom, toothbrush in hand. Brienne went to the kitchen closet and took out the old broom and dustpan before retrieving a few cleaning products from under the sink. She gave the floor a quick sweep before taking their bags up the stairs into the master bedroom. Her and her brother Galladon had shared a bedroom on the first floor which still had two beds in it; twins. Far too small for her height now. 

The upstairs of the beach house was just the master bedroom, its closet and a bathroom. The door to the back porch was off to the side of the room and Brienne looked out into the bright light of the Sapphire Isle with something like nostalgia warming her inside. She took off the sheets that covered all the furniture, some dust and sand shaking loose. That was the risk of living at the beach, sand sneaking its way in everywhere.

When she came back down stairs, her arms laden with the furniture coverings, ready to give the downstairs the same treatment and found Jaime staring out the kitchen window, his hair raked back like he’d splashed water on his face and used it to smooth down the strands. Brienne’s breath caught in her throat, the sight of Jaime standing in a place she so closely associated with her childhood, with herself, making her heart beat faster. He turned towards her, the contemplative expression on his face swiftly replaced by marked joy. 

“Can I help with anything?” he asked, coming toward her and trying to take the bundle of dusty sheets from her hands. Brienne tugged them back.

“No. I’m going to go hang these on the clothesline outside.”

Jaime’s face fell slightly and Brienne rushed to amend her brusque statement. “Come with me?”

Brienne tugged the sheets off the couch and armchairs before leading Jaime out the back door and to the side of the house. The wind had picked up since they had gone inside and whipped through their hair, making the sheets billow as she tried to pin them to the line.  Not used to have such long hair, Brienne grew frustrated with the way it blew about her face, the chin length strands refusing to stay in any semblance of a ponytail. Despite her rejection of his help, Jaime ended up by her side, holding the opposite end of each sheet as she pinned the corners. Soon the lines were covered in the white fabric, the wind making them shift like cartoon ghosts.

Jaime came up beside her and pulled her against his side. He let his head rest on her shoulder as they breathed together. 

“You come here every year?” he asked as the wind died down and the sound of the ocean waves grew louder beyond the hill. 

Brienne let her head fall to rest on top of his, threading her arm around his waist. “I try to. Sometimes I can’t get away from the city, but the Isle is important to me.”

“It’s beautiful,” Jaime said. Brienne’s stomach flipped. She was embarrassed at how glad it made her to hear Jaime say he thought her home was beautiful.

Brienne pressed a kiss to his hair, feeling absurdly affectionate. “Let’s go into town and get groceries.”

Jaime whined and gave her an exaggerated frown.

“Jaime—why are you scowling?”

“Can’t we stay here for longer?”

“The sooner we get groceries the sooner we can stop and relax,” Brienne replied, unwilling to let Jaime convince her with his puppy-dog eyes. She knew if they went inside he would just try to get her into bed and once they got into bed they likely wouldn’t leave until later and they would  _ both _ regret the lack of coffee in the morning.

She strode to the door and locked it with finality before marching down the path back to the main street. Jaime trailed after her grumbling, but took her hand in his once they reached the sidewalk. She led him to the corner mart, more convenience store than grocery but suited to her weekend needs. As she walked through the aisles, basket in hand and Jaime on her heels, she realized that maybe she hadn’t taken Jaime’s tastes into account. Her usual weekend diet of peanut butter sandwiches and pasta seemingly bleak in the face of a Lannister’s tastes.

Despite that, Jaime seemed enthralled by the little store, looking around like he’d never seen it’s like. Which...maybe he hadn’t.

She stood in front of the bread considering her options which were...white or wheat. “Jaime! Come here!”

He appeared at her side as if he had never left. She jumped a little at his sudden appearance. “What’s up?” he asked, a little of his typical energy returning to him.

“What do you want to eat while you’re here? I just realized I normally eat like a poor college student and that, um, maybe you wouldn’t want to do that.”

“How about we…” he began and then drifted off as he walked to the cooler section. “Eggs, milk. Let’s grab cereal and some snacks.”

He went down another aisle and looked at the two cereal options. “Lucky Charms or Cheerios?”

Before she could even answer, he snagged a box of Lucky Charms. Turning to the much more populated snack shelves, he grabbed chips, pretzels, dried fruit and some jerky. Finally, he grabbed a six pack of beer and tossed a few apples and a bunch of bananas into her basket.

“This should hold us over and we can go out to eat the rest of the time,” Jaime said.

Brienne looked over the items he had grabbed and protested, “Jaime I can’t afford—”

“Consider it my treat. You’re providing the lodging. I’ll provide the food.”

She pursed her lips but pushed aside her reservations. “We’ll need coffee too.”

Jaime surveyed the coffee options and picked the most expensive one with a grimace. “This will have to do.”

“You’re a bit of a snob, aren’t you,” Brienne commented as they walked to the register.

“I have taste Brienne,” Jaime corrected.

“Sure,” she murmured, unloading some of the basket onto the counter. The old man who ran the shop rung them up slowly, his weathered face immobile as he took Jaime’s card to run it. 

They trudged back to the house together, Jaime chattering happily about all the things he wanted to do while they were there. His words didn’t stop even as they entered the house and began to put things away. Brienne thought that if it weren’t Jaime she would have snapped at him to shut up by then, but there was something soothing about his mindless conversation, little observations and flights of fancy. He seemed happy to talk, occasionally falling silent and then picking back up again, waiting for Brienne to make her quiet noises of acknowledgment as he spoke. 

“I’m hungry. Are you hungry? I saw this cute tavern on the way here. The Dancing Crab. Can we go? Is it any good?”

Brienne shook her head fondly. “It’s ok. There’s places with better food but the Crab has good outdoor seating. We can watch the sunset.”

Jaime smiled broadly at her. “Well, well, well, did you just ask me to watch the sunset with you, Tarth? Mighty romantic.”

Brienne pinched him and he yelped. “Abuse! Abuse!”

He tried to get ahold of her wrists but she pulled away, her strength and longer limbs giving her leverage when she pulled him into a headlock. He lowered his center of gravity and pushed his shoulder into her stomach forcing her back until she hit the wall. She released her hold on him just long enough to make him feel safe before pinning his arms to his sides and spinning them so she towered over Jaime, pressing him into the plaster of the wall. She felt him shaking under her hands.

“Do you yield?” she asked with a dark grin absolutely certain she was turning Jaime on if the look in his eye was any indication.

“Make me,” Jaime said, probably trying to sound just as mocking but it came out like a plea.

“Wouldn’t you like that?” Brienne said, releasing him and turning away with a deliberately provocative smirk.

Jaime spluttered behind her and Brienne hid a smile behind her hand. “Let’s go get dinner.”

“I’m gonna get you back for that, Tarth,” Jaime said, brushing past her and squeezing her ass.

He grabbed his jacket and marched out of the house.

Brienne burst into laughter.

**

The Dancing Crab was bustling but not too busy, the outdoor seating in full swing with the lit fairy lights strung between the poles creating a fancier atmosphere than the Crab warranted given its weathered picnic tables and paper napkins. 

The sun was bright orange as it set, the moon already visible in the purpling sky. The outdoor dining room extended out over the hill and looked down on the beach where the waves crashed into the sand. Brienne watched Jaime turn to stare out over the ocean, menu dangling in hand and seemingly forgotten for the moment. The setting sun made his hair look more golden and caught the silver that threaded through it, belying his age. A private smile broke out over his face, settling into the grooves about his mouth before he turned to look at her. Their eyes met and whatever sarcastic comment Jaime had ready was tossed aside in favor of a genuine smile. “Thank you for bringing me here,” he said and then hesitated as if he wanted to say more.

Not wanting to press, Brienne directed her attention to the menu. It hadn’t changed. They both ordered burgers and Brienne promised Jaime to take him for good seafood the next day. 

The waitress arrived with their pitcher of beer and a flirtatious smile for Jaime as she glanced between them most likely trying to decide if they were together or not. Brienne nodded at her in acknowledgment when they made eye contact and the girl scampered off making Brienne shake her head. 

“You don’t have to scare the girl,” Jaime said as he poured them each a drink from the plastic pitcher. 

“I’m not trying to scare her,” Brienne said and she knew she sounded sullen. 

“What? Frowning at her and practically growling?” He put the beer in front of her and Brienne immediately took a big gulp.

“She was staring at me. And at you,” Brienne said, wiping a bit of foam from her upper lip. Jaime could be so dense.

Jaime put down his beer. “Oh, are you jealous? Of the waitress? With whom I have exchanged exactly _zero words_?”

He said it incredulously like he was trying to tease her but it still made her flush in embarrassment. “I’m not jealous,” she said with a sniff. “The girl was clearly trying to figure out if we were together and I wanted to make sure she knew we were.”

“Tarth, you don't have to deny it. You can be jealous. I know I'm worth it,” he said with an exaggerated wink.

Brienne knew he was laughing at her so she just took another swallow of her beer.

In no time, the sun was nearly set and Brienne and Jaime had finished their first pitcher. The food arrived and they were pleasantly tipsy which made the mediocre food taste even better. “This is really nice,” Jaime announced, tossing his napkin on his plate before leaning back in his chair. “The food, the view, the company.”

“It’s nice to have someone with me. I usually come alone,” Brienne admitted. Sansa had come with her the year after her father had passed away—for moral support, her friend had said—but the timing had never worked after that. Being alone on the Isle suited Brienne fine. She liked being able to come and go on her whims. Despite that, she had to admit having Jaime there was better.

Jaime gave her a soft look that made her insides feel warm. “Well, you don’t have to be alone anymore.”

The waitress appeared to take their plates and bring the check. Once it was all paid, Brienne thanked Jaime again for buying dinner, but Jaime waved off her thanks. “My pleasure. Have to keep my girl fed,” he said, a hand going to her lower back as he walked her out of the restaurant.

_ My girl _ . Brienne jammed her hands into the pockets of her jeans and looked at her feet as they walked back to the house.

Outside the house, Brienne came to a stop. Jaime stood at the door and turned to look at her expectantly. “Are you ok?”

“Yeah,” she said. She shifted on her feet and bit her lip. It wasn’t even a difficult request. It just felt somehow important. Private. She was being ridiculous. “I normally go on a night walk on the beach my first day here.”

Jaime searched her face. The light of the half moon case long shadows behind the house and she had difficulty reading his expression. “Do you want to go alone?”

She exhaled and shook her head. “Come with me?”

Jaime pulled on the jacket he had tucked over his arm and followed her down the cobbled steps that led between the hill and the small cliff where the house was perched. They walked in silence, Jaime’s usual talkativeness subdued. After walking for nearly half an hour, Brienne stopped and turned to face the water, the cold wind blowing off the ocean making her shiver. Jaime stopped beside her.

“Do you ever get homesick?” Brienne asked, wrapping her long arms around her torso more for comfort than warmth.

“Not really,” Jaime said and Brienne could feel him looking at her. She continued to stare out over the waves. 

“I’ve never really  _ wanted _ to be at home even when I lived there so it didn’t make much sense for me to want to go back after I’d left.”

Brienne hummed, feeling unaccountably sad. For herself and for Jaime. She’d had a good thing once. A good family. And that was gone. And Jaime still had his family but it sounded like a family in name only. Not in feeling.

“I feel like I miss it more even when I’m here,” Brienne said, knowing it sounded illogical but wanting to say it anyway. She felt tears prick behind her eyes and she shook her head, willing herself not to cry. 

Jaime didn’t say anything but he reached out and twined their fingers together. Brienne took a few shuddering breaths and the urge to cry subsided. Jaime tugged on her arm until she faced him and she was floored by the naked emotion on his face. Like sadness and awe all at once. “You are an amazing woman, Brienne Tarth. Kinder than the world warrants and I’m sorry that life hasn’t been kinder to you.”

Brienne shook her head. “I’ve been lucky—”

“Maybe. But you’ve also been strong,” Jaime said as if daring her to disagree.

Jaime kissed her, aggressive yet chaste, like he was trying to prove something. She blinked when he pulled away. “Let’s go back to the house.”

He led the way back down the beach and Brienne realized that, despite everything, she really did feel lucky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i've really drawn from my upbringing in the Pacific Northwest of the US to describe Tarth. like the town described is literally a town ive been to (Newport Oregon hey whatsup)  
> hope you enjoyed! all the comments have meant so much! <3


	13. Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne and Jaime meet the Lannisters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ummm so some angst crept in?  
> i guess in order to wrap the story up i needed to introduce a /problem/ to resolve  
> id like to call it bittersweet angst though!

Something about Brienne was softer on the Isle. Maybe it was the way the sea air tousled her hair and the bright sunlight diffused her paleness, making her look ethereal, almost beautiful. Jaime didn’t think she noticed the change in herself or the way that men—and a few women—looked her way when they were down on the pier. 

With her rolled up jeans and mussed hair she looked more like herself, shedding the vestiges of shyness that Jaime sometimes still saw when they went out together. She looked comfortable in her own skin.

It made Jaime want to rip her clothes off.

Instead, he took her hand as they strolled down the sidewalk. She pointed out her favorite bookstore and dragged him into a little antique shop. It was nothing like the mega antique mall they had gone to outside of King’s Landing but it had...charm. Brienne wandered the aisles, lost in the hunt for just the right thing, so Jaime stood at the front looking through more of the touristy items—bumper stickers, shot glasses, magnets.

Jaime regretted the fact that they only had two days on the Isle, wishing that they could spend at least a week together, but he knew Brienne needed to get back to work. And as much as he wished to pretend otherwise, so did he.

Faster than he had anticipated, Brienne appeared at his side and was pushing him out of the store hurriedly. “We have to leave,” she hissed, blue eyes frantic. Taken aback, Jaime let her bustle him out of the store, but as the bell clanked above them, he heard a voice from the back of the store.

“Brienne?”

Jaime’s back was pressed into the handle of the door and Brienne’s hands fell from his chest. She closed her eyes and Jaime saw her jaw tick before she turned around. “Connington.”

“It’s been ages,” the man said as he came around the shelf behind her. Jaime decidedly did  _ not _ like the smirk on the man’s mouth.

“It has.”

Brienne’s normally polite voice was hard and Jaime knew a dismissal when he heard one. Not answering her, Connington replied, “I heard you’re over in King’s Landing. Making it big.”

“It’s none of your business.”

When it fell silent for a moment, Jaime said, “Excuse us, we were just leaving.”

He grabbed Brienne and pulled from the store, not liking the look on her face or the tone of her voice. It wasn’t like her to be so rude. Even when they had first met and Brienne thought him just another shallow jerk, she had been polite. Terse, but polite.

Jaime marched her down the street and into a little cafe. “Who was that?” he asked as he ushered her into a seat.

“Someone I met once,” Brienne said, looking out the window, an angry expression on her face.

“And?” Jaime asked. Getting her to answer questions sometimes felt like pulling teeth. 

Brienne fixed him with a glare and he saw that she was ready to snap at  _ him _ before her face fell. “Sorry. I’m not being fair. It’s not your fault.”

For once in his life, Jaime decided that shutting up was the best thing to do. So he waited for her continue.

“That was Ronnet Connington,” Brienne said. “Before my father passed, he was—well, he worried about me. Being alone. He set me up on a blind date with Ron. He was the son of a work friend and so I said I’d go but I shouldn’t have. When I got to the restaurant, Ron looked at me, stood up and said something about not knowing how ugly I’d be and that it wasn’t worth it.”

Jaime surprised himself with the angry noise his made. “Do you mean that  _ gangly ginger _ told you that he wouldn’t stay for a date because you were too  _ ugly _ ?”

“Jaime, it’s just more of the same,” she said, sounding tired, “I should have been more polite in the store. I just haven’t thought about it in a long time and  _ seeing _ him—it made me  _ angry. _ ”

“I think you had a right to be angry,” Jaime said, trying to control his own anger at the fact that anyone would treat her that way. “He was an ass.”

Brienne laughed, some of the tension falling out of her expression. “That’s a straightforward way of saying it.”

The woman at the counter cleared her throat and glared at them for using up a seat but not buying anything, Brienne colored and they both ordered ice cream even though it was only 10 AM. “Ice cream is an anytime food,” Jaime reminded Brienne and she snorted into her spoonful of coffee nut crunch.

“I cannot believe that you stay so fit. I’ve seen how you eat,” Brienne murmured when Jaime got a double scoop of cookies and cream. 

“You’ve also seen how much I exercise, Tarth. Gotta work for this body,” Jaime said, slapping his stomach which even he had to admit had gotten slightly softer over the years. 

Brienne rolled her eyes and held the door open for them. Jaime was glad that her bad mood had dissipated and she was seemingly back to her playful self, ready to have fun together. 

After a wandering through a few more stores, they grabbed sandwiches from a bistro and headed back to the house. Brienne had promised to take him to the tidepools and he wasn’t letting her go back on that promise. 

Jaime had, in fact, bought her a bikini. It was more modest than he would have chosen but it showed off her flat stomach and strong thighs which more than made up for the fact that it covered so much skin. The flat navy fabric was no-nonsense, but, with blue definitely being Brienne’s color, he knew it was the right choice when he picked it out.

Jaime changed into his swim trunks and old t-shirt while Brienne changed in the bathroom, still modest despite how often he had seen her naked. When she came out, Jaime’s mouth went dry. She had slipped on a pair of shorts over the bottoms of the bikini that somehow made her look taller, curvier. Her now nearly chin-length hair was brushed back from her face in a semblance of her old style and the only thought in Jaime’s head was  _ touch. _

He went up to her and skimmed his hand over her stomach, bringing it to rest on the slight curve of her hip. Lifting himself on his toes, he pulled her into a kiss, feeling desperate and hungry to just be close to her. She was the one to break away and he regretted the sudden distance between them.

She poked him in the chest and said, “Sunscreen and then beach.”

Brienne got out the sunscreen and rubbed it over her pale skin, the white lotion obscuring her dark freckles. She offered him some and he stripped off his shirt before smoothing it over his own face and shoulders. When Brienne asked, he spread the sunscreen over her back, reminding himself that Brienne clearly had plans for them and those plans did not include rolling around in bed smearing sunscreen all over the blankets while they panted into each other’s mouths.

Brienne returned the favor and then grabbed an oversized shirt to cover her skin. She packed a small bag with towels, water bottles and the sunscreen, slinging it over her back before leading Jaime from the house. Jaime followed her out of the house, quietly mourning not being able to see per bare skin.

They went down the stones that led to the beach, the sand brighter in the morning than it had been the night prior. The tide was also in, licking further up the beach than Jaime expected. When they reached the bottom of the cliff, Brienne shucked off her shoes and tucked them behind a rock gesturing for Jaime to do the same. Barefoot they wandered to the east, the sand a strange combination of hot and cool beneath their feet. Brienne stopped occasionally to pick up rocks and seashells, showing Jaime the more interesting ones. Her quiet joy was infectious, and soon Jaime was joining in the hunt. 

“First person to find five whole shells wins,” he declared before running off to the water. He heard Brienne’s laughter behind him, snatched away by the wind.

Brienne won. Her expertise at spotting shells outdoing Jaime’s competitive nature. “I found the prettiest one though,” Jaime said, holding up a white shell with an iridescent inside. 

Brienne took it and turned it in her hand. “It is a good one.”

“I’m keeping it,” he said, tucking it in to the pouch on Brienne’s bag before they made a little pile of shells to leave behind.

The large dune at the end of the beach loomed as they walked, revealing a rocky inlet behind it as the tide went out. Brienne led him out into the low water and over stones slick with moss and peppered in barnacles.

She pointed to his right and he looked down, the swirl of a tide pool startling him as the tide gurgled out. The anemones shut themselves slowly, unfurling again when the pool refilled. 

“Wow,” he breathed, squatting down to look closer. 

“Careful,” Brienne warned. “The rocks are slippery.”

Using his hands for additional leverage, he leaned forward and a little crab scurried under a rock outcropping. He smiled. “You came here all the time didn’t you?”

Brienne nodded, excitement lighting her face. “I loved it. I’d watch the tide going in and out.”

She pointed at the dune where it it turned into a cliff face, rocks forming outcroppings and caverns. “I’d go up there and sit for hours until I got too cold.”

“Sounds nice,” Jaime said, a little wistful. “I didn’t have anything like that at Casterly.”

“Really? Nothing?” Brienne asked as Jaime stood and they picked their way over the rocks and back to the shore.

“I guess there was this tree on the edge of where our property met the river. It was bent so it was easy to climb and I’d go up and sit in the limbs sometimes. But not for hours. Usually Cersei would come find me and make me play with her,” he said, considering. The memories were fuzzy because he had been so young, only six or seven, but they were still there so it must have felt important once.

“I don’t know. That sounds pretty nice.”

Jaime just hummed, a little lost in the memories of time where Casterly didn’t feel like a tomb.

Brienne pointed up the dune and raised her eyebrows. “Ready for a climb?”

Jaime clapped his hands together and before Brienne could say anything else, tossed her into the sand at the base of the dune. “I’m gonna get to the top before you!”

Ignoring Brienne’s disgruntled spluttering, Jaime began hiking up the hill, shocked at the difficulty. The sand shifted too much and it was difficult to gain traction. He ended up having to use his hands just as Brienne passed him deftly, leaping up the dune and then standing at the top shaking sand from her hair. 

“I’m going to say it’s not fair because you’ve done this before,” Jaime said when he finally crested the dune.

“ _ I’m  _ going to say it’s not fair because you  _ pushed _ me into the sand,” Brienne said, shoving him back. 

Jaime brushed sand off his clothes and said, “You said something about swimming?”

Brienne laughed and led him over the hill. They continued down into a more forested area where the dune grass grew particularly tall and as they descended Jaime heard the sound of water rushing. “Here we are,” Brienne announced. 

It turned out the rushing water was a waterfall, a tributary of a river running into the basin with a small outlet towards the shore. They climbed down the stones and Brienne stripped off her clothes without ceremony. Jaime barely had any time to appreciate the view before she lept from a stone and into the water, a ten foot drop. 

He heard her low whoop before she yelled for him to join. Pushing away his nerves, he took of his shirt and followed her down. His stomach jumped as he fell and the cold water knocked the breath from his lungs. 

Just as he surfaced and kicked his legs out to gain some traction, Brienne was on him, dunking him under the water. He came up spluttering and full of laughter. “Attacking an old man? That’s a low blow, Tarth.”

Brienne gave him a wide-eyed look as if to say  _ who? Me? _ Jaime wouldn’t have it and as he began to swim towards her to get his vengeance, she turned and swam away, her long legs making her faster than him. When she paused to see where he was, he caught up to her, grabbing her to spin her around.

“Jaime!” she cried, full of laughter, as he lifted her and tossed her away, sending a wave of water against the edge of the basin. 

She turned on him with a scowl and splashed water into his face. After swiping the water from his eyes, he cried uncle and they swam in lazy circles until they were too cold. They climbed onto a low bank and then up the stones to where they left their things so they could dry in the sun. As they settled onto the towel Brienne had packed, Jaime looked at her, a feeling of such intense joy in his chest that he had to bite back any declarations that he thought Brienne wasn’t quite ready for. Instead, he pulled her close and kissed her, loving the way she smiled against his mouth. 

**

The drive to Casterly was quiet, Jaime’s anxiety ratcheting the tension in the car up to untenable levels. He could Brienne casting him worried glances. She was wearing a knee length shift dress in maroon that Jaime had helped her pick out from her closet, the bracelet he had bought her at the antique store wrapped around her wrist. 

“Shouldn’t I be the one whose nervous?” Brienne asked.

Jaime sighed, trying to relax some of the tension in his shoulders. He knew he failed. “I’m sorry. I just—my family and I have a difficult relationship.”

Brienne was silent for a moment. “I know it’s not much but I  _ am _ here to help. I’m going to support you.”

“I mean, you’re not just here to help. You’re here because you’re important to me and because I want you to meet my family.”

Brienne reached out and placed her hand on his knee. “Whatever you need, Jaime.”

When they arrived at Casterly, Brienne sucked in a breath at the sight of the house. Jaime grimaced a little. He wasn’t usually ashamed of his wealth, but the looked on Brienne’s face made him feel slightly embarrassed. “The Lannisters have never been subtle,” he said by way of explanation.

“If that’s what the house looks like, I can’t wait to see your room.”

“Well, you might be disappointed. It’s very drab.”

Brienne scoffed, but didn’t say anything as they got out of the car. She grabbed her suitcase from the back and Jaime followed, simultaneously excited to show Brienne this part of her life and afraid of how it was going to go. He reminded himself that Tyrion was right and meeting the family before Elia’s wedding was a good idea. 

The hulking man his father employed as caretaker took their bags from them in foyer and as soon as he left the room Brienne turned to Jaime and hissed, “That man was a giant!”

“Gregor? He used to scare the shit out of me when I was a kid. You get used to him,” Jaime said.

“Language, my dear.”

Jaime cringed at the sound of Cersei’s voice. He’d hoped he would at least be able to get Brienne settled before Cersei and Bobby arrived.

“Cersei, it’s good to see you,” he said, smiling as she hugged him.

“You as well.” She raised an eyebrow and looked at Brienne. “You’re still with her I see?”

“He is,” Brienne said firmly. Jaime saw the way she put her shoulder back and lifted her head, something she only did when she was on the defensive.

“Are the children here?” Jaime asked to help diffuse the awkwardness.

Cersei nodded turning her focus back to him. “They’ve been put to bed. It will be a long day tomorrow and I wanted them rested.”

Jaime was a little disappointed he wouldn’t be able to see them that night but he understood his sister’s logic. Two screaming and tired children would be the bane of the Solsitce party.

“Come, don’t you want to introduce to her Tywin?” Cersei said turning swiftly, her red sundress swishing about her legs.

Jaime exchanged a look with Brienne and she came him a small crooked smile. He steeled himself and followed Cersei to the informal sitting room. Tywin was sitting on the far couch—a gigantic leather monstrosity—across from Bobby who was booming with laughter as he poured two whiskeys.

Tywin had a wicked smile on his face and it made a shiver go down Jaime’s spine. That was the smile Tywin had when he knew he was about to win an argument, when he had laid the perfect trap. 

“Jaime’s here,” Cersei announced before flouncing over to her husband and sitting down. She smoothed her hands over the skirt of her dress and the smile on her face mirrored Tywin’s.

“Hello Dad. Bobby,” Jaime said with an inclination of his head. “This is my girlfriend, Brienne.”

Bobby stood and stuck out a hand to shake Brienne’s. “Nice to meet you. Robert Baratheon. Call me Bobby,” he said, gregarious as always.

Jaime saw Brienne tense a little but before he could think on it, Tywin spoke, “Brienne. Do you have a last name?”

“Tarth, um, sir,” Brienne said. She sounded like a soldier reporting for duty. 

Tywin’s face was stony, but not more so than usual. “Tarth,” he said like he was rolling the word in his mouth. “I don’t know that name.”

Brienne looked at Jaime helplessly and he stepped in. “She works with the Starks.”

Tywin should know the Starks. They were his primary competition in the North in the real estate business. And Tywin always knew his rivals. “I see,” he said, regal as ever.

They all stood in silence for a moment before Tywin said, “Sit.”

They sat. 

It was an uncomfortable evening and Jaime found himself wishing that Tyrion had already arrived to dispel the tension. He was good at that. As it was, Brienne sat next to him in relative silence only speaking when spoken to. Jaime was called upon to share stories of work and relate updates on acquaintances in the city. It was terribly boring and he was thankful when Cersei called it a night so he had an excuse to leave as well.

He led Brienne up the grand staircase and to his room in the east wing. The minute the door was shut behind him, he grabbed her hands and said, “I’m so sorry. That was awful.”

Brienne shook her head and pulled him into a hug. “Don’t apologize. You didn’t do anything. It’s fine. I’m fine.”

“Gods, I feel like a mess,” Jaime said on a shuddering breath, running his hands through his hair as he collapsed on the edge of his bed. Brienne kneeled in front of him and looked him in the eye as she asked, “Why are we here, Jaime? If it does this to you.”

“Because I have to be. And I wanted you to see—I wanted you to know about all this. Know what you were getting into.”

Brienne pursed her lips, a thousand emotions passing through her expressive eyes. “Fuck them.”

Jaime’s eyebrows went up. Brienne didn’t swear often and it always shocked him to hear curses come out of her mouth.

She said it again. “Fuck them. I  _ do _ want to know you better and if this is part of you then so be it. But don’t worry on my account. I can take care of myself. And you should take care of yourself too.”

Jaime nodded. Her words made him feel raw. That same sensation of affection and gratitude swelled in his chest. “I love you.”

He said it and immediately wished he hadn’t.

Brienne’s eyes flickered. “Oh.”

Jaime looked away and released her hands. Of course she didn’t love him. What was the point of loving? He hated it. Tywin had called him a fool when he wanted to propose to Elia. And Jaime had always felt like one.

And he felt like one again.

Rough hands came up to cup his face, turning him back to look at her. Brienne’s eyes were brimming with tears as she searched his face. She leaned up and kissed his forehead then his cheeks and then brushed a kiss across his mouth. “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you,” she whispered between each touch of her lips on his skin.

They weren’t the words he was looking for but when she pulled him down into the bed they almost felt like it. 

It was sweet and soft, Brienne’s hands running over his body like it was a precious thing. It made his heart hurt and he put as much feeling as he could into his kiss, into his touch, drinking in her moans and sounds as he brought her to her peak with his hands. It felt right when he sheathed himself inside her, keeping his pace slow, determined to bring her to orgasm while they were connected. She cried out when he brought one of her legs over his shoulder and several moments later he felt her pulse around him as she came. He let himself fall over the edge with her as her eyes shot open, glittering like sapphires in the lowlight. 

Collapsing next to her, he ran a hand down her bare shoulder, the grief from earlier subsiding in the afterglow. “I’m sorry if it’s too much too soon.

Brienne rolled over and tucked her face into the pillow. “It’s not.”

Jaime’s hand stilled on her skin. “Then why...” He didn’t know how to ask the question.

“I don’t know,” Brienne said, eyes sad and mouth drawn. “I just don’t—you have to understand this is new for me and I’m not sure—I don’t know what it should be like or if what I’m feeling is what I should be feeling. I’m still figuring out, Jaime.”

Jaime ignored the cold weight in his belly. He understood where she was coming from. He was no stranger to confusion or fear. “But you don’t...mind?”

Brienne cupped his face in her hand. “Of course not. I—I like you so much Jaime. You’re important to me.”

He kissed her wrist, acutely relieved that his confession wouldn’t drive a wedge between them. “Do you think you could?” Jaime asked and when Brienne looked back at him in confusion he asked, “Love me?”

He felt stupid and vulnerable but when she looked at him and said, “I do” like she believed it, Jaime’s heart stuttered.


	14. Summer Solstice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne and Jaime go to a rather ridiculous party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cornhole is an american game where you toss a beanbag into a tilted board with a hole cut out

Brienne slept fitfully and, when the sun began to shine through the windows of Jaime’s ridiculously large bedroom, she gave up on the attempt all together.

Jaime loved her.

Loved  _ her _ .

She rolled out of bed and Jaime grumbled a bit but didn’t wake. She pulled on her clothes and running shoes, deciding a long run would help her clear her mind. Since she didn’t know the area she made sure to grab her phone before heading out.

Brienne loved running, the subtle rhythm of it lulling her until her thoughts began sharp and clear. She left Casterly (gods she couldn’t believe Jaime’s ancestral home had an actual  _ name _ ) and veered off into the woods. When she finally reached a clearing, she stopped and took a heaving breath as she leaned against a tree. 

Did she love Jaime?

She thought that she might. He was important to her and the person she most wanted to see when she woke up, the person she wanted to consult on the most mundane topics. Was that love? She didn’t know, her only frame of reference what she had seen in films and read in books, and she was no fool, she knew those stories were just stories. It was all grand declarations and kissing in the rain and life wasn’t like that.

She supposed it sometimes felt like that when she was with Jaime, like her heart was so big it might burst from her chest. 

Brienne shook her head. It was going to be a long day.

When she returned to the house and opened the door to the bedroom, Jaime was sitting up in bed, his glasses on as he stared down at his phone frowning. He looked up at her when the door creaked open.

“Where were you?” he asked as he removed his glasses and set them on the bedside table.

“Run,” Brienne explained, kicking off her sneakers. “I went off to the woods. It was pretty.”

Jaime got out of bed, clad only in his boxers, and Brienne’s mouth went dry. Gods, he was attractive. “I guess I forget that part of the estate is actually  _ nice _ .”

When Jaime approached her, she stepped back. Worry crumpled his face and Brienne hurried to say, “I just need to shower. Can you point me in the right direction towels?”

Still a little wary, Jaime showed her into the en suite and pointed out the linen and soap. When the door snicked shut behind him, Brienne stripped off her clothes and stepped into the shower.

She hoped things wouldn’t get weird.

**

Brienne was wearing a white drop waisted sundress with blue flowers embroidered in snatches across the fabric. Jaime helped her pin back her hair into something resembling a real style and when she swiped mascara over her lashes, she felt pretty. 

Jaime brushed a kiss across her cheek and smiled at her softly. “Thank you for coming.”

“You already said that you know. Multiple times,” Brienne pointed out, smiling back at him in the mirror. 

“Well, I’m still thankful so I’ll keep saying it.”

Brienne sat in a reading chair in the corner of the room and flipped through the news on her phone while Jaime got ready. When he cleared his throat, she looked up and chuckled a little. He looked like a rich kid ready to go boating. 

He didn’t seemed to notice her amusement instead his eyes flickered from the wall to her face and she could tell he was nervous. She put down her phone and tilted her head in question. 

“I didn’t make things uncomfortable between us, did I?” he asked.

Brienne shook her head. “I’m not uncomfortable, Jaime. I feel happy. You know that, right?”

Jaime looked relieved as he ran a hand through his hair. “Ok. That’s good to hear. You’d tell me? If you were uncomfortable?”

“I promise I’ll tell you,” Brienne said and she stood and crossed the room to kiss him. “Let’s go downstairs, I’m hungry.”

They had a quick breakfast alone in the kitchen, sharing bites of fruit and toast, before the guests started to arrive.

Jaime showed her to the backyard where tents and tables were set up, lawn games strewn around an ornate fountain. “You family throws this party  _ every year _ ?” she asked incredulously and Jaime laughed at her.

They mingled on the lawn, Jaime carefully steering her away from Cersei. Once Tyrion showed up (fashionably late), things got much more relaxed as Brienne had someone to talk to while Jaime went off and chatted with various acquaintances. It was apparently a lot of business and politics and Brienne was glad not to be involved.

Tyrion sucked a mint julep through a straw and stared at Brienne across the picnic table they had settled at. “How are things?”

Brienne tore her gaze away from where Jaime stood, laughing with some man she didn’t recognize. “They’re good. It was nice to go back home for a bit. How have you been?”

Tyrion raised his eyebrows like she hadn’t exactly answered her question. “I’m all right. Work has been one hell after another but that’s quite normal for me.”

Brienne didn’t exactly know how to respond to that. Sounded brutal.

“So my brother hasn’t done anything particularly stupid lately?” Tyrion asked, crunching on ice. “Seems out of character.”

“He seems a little stressed about the party today, but nothing terrible has happened.”

“Yet. Nothing terrible has happened yet,” Tyrion corrected.

Brienne grimaced. That didn’t sound very good. “Does it normally—”

“Just wait until everyone gets well and truly drunk. Fights have broken out over the last shrimp cocktail.”

Brienne snorted out a little laugh, but Tyrion raised his eyebrows. “You think I’m joking. I’m  _ not _ joking.”

“Brienne?”

She turned around and was surprised by a familiar mop of black curls. “Jon? What are you doing here?”

Jon smiled sheepishly. “Well, Dad got the invite and needed to send someone. I was in the area.”

“It’s good to see you,” Brienne said. And it was. She didn’t much get to see the other Starks outside of the holidays and it was always nice to spend time with them. Jon was sweet and fatherly in a lot of ways, taking after Ned even though he was a nephew.

A large red-haired man appeared beside Jon and said, “They don’t have any beer. What kind of party doesn’t have beer?”

“Erm,” Jon said, looking uncomfortable. Brienne sized up the red-haired man, something about him striking her as awfully familiar.

“Brienne, this is Tormund, er, Ygritte’s cousin. She had to cancel at the last minute so he agreed to come,” Jon said in that endearingly stuttering way of his.

The man looked at Brienne and his face lit up. “The woman from the bar! I never thought I’d see you again. You still with that pretty boy?”

The memory crashed into Brienne and she blushed. She had met him at the RK months ago. Jaime had gotten jealous. She tried to smile but it came out as sort of a grimace. “Yes, Jaime. We’re still together,”Bbrienne said, pointing across the lawn where Jaime was scowling as an older woman talked to him animatedly.

Tormund blew out a breath through his nose. “Too bad. Thought I might have a chance.”

Brienne couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up at the thought. Tormund grinned at her but it lacked the lascivious gleam that she remembered from the bar. “Milady, might I challenge you to a game of cornhole?” he asked with a little bow, all faux chivalry

They got their drinks and started a rather loud game of cornhole, Tormund shouting any time any of them scored. The rest of the party glared at them in turns, clearly unsure of what to do with such behavior.

Eventually Jaime wandered to her side, his eyebrows drawn together. Her laughter tapered off and she smiled at him. “Having a good time?” he asked.

“Jaime, you’ve met Jon. And this is his friend, Tormund,” Brienne said, gesturing between the men by way of introduction.

Jaime shook Tormund’s hand but his eyes were narrowed in suspicion. “You look familiar.”

“Aye, you met me in a bar once. Tried to get your lady love here’s phone number.”

Jaime turned his suspicious glare at Brienne who shook her head, trying to ignore the guilt she felt. She knew this was a sensitive issue with Jaime, but she was hoping he’d get over it when he realized she wasn’t the cheating type.

“Want to play some cornhole?” she asked, trying to dispel the tension.

“I’d love to,” Jaime said with one of his shark-like grins.

Jaime turned out to be decent at it, avoiding any of the debacles like  _ bowling _ . He maybe got a little too competitive with Tormund, elbowing each other when it was his turn. Tormund took it in good humor, occasionally sharing a knowing glance with Jon who seemed embarrassed about the whole thing. But by the end, the two were laughing it off and Brienne felt relieved. The party was awkward enough without Jaime getting jealous.

It was all going very well before Brienne left to get a drink at the bar and Tywin appeared at her side.

“Brienne, was it?” he asked.

She startled and turned to face him, her ice water slicking condensation onto her hands. “Yes. That’s right.”

“It’s good to finally meet one of Jaime’s girlfriends,” Tywin said and Brienne had to push down her suspicion.

The man sounded friendly and by all accounts Tywin was  _ not _ friendly. “I’m glad to meet the family,” Brienne replied warily.

Tywin hummed and ordered his own drink, whiskey neat, remind her of Jaime. The curve of his mouth was nearly the same. “What do you do for a living, Brienne?”

“I’m a graphic designer.”

“Interesting line of work. Are you committed to it?”

“I suppose.”

What a strange conversation.

Tywin sipped at his drink. “I’m going to be frank with you, Brienne.”

She steeled herself.

“You seem an upstanding woman. Strong in character if your behavior last night is any indication. But you must know that there are certain expectations for the type of marriage that Jaime will enter into and I’m not sure you are quite the right candidate for the position.”

Brienne choked at the word  _ marriage _ , her head swimming through the rest of Tywin’s statement certain it was some sort of insult. Marriage. She pictured herself in white—oh that wouldn’t do, maybe gold? Jaime in a tux. She felt warm and embarrassed as all of Tywin’s words soaked in.

Brienne tossed her shoulders back and glared down at Tywin—he was only about an inch shorter than her but she glared down all the same—and then said, “Thank you, Mr. Lannister. Jaime has told me what’s expected of him. And  _ to be frank _ , he seems to do pretty well making his own decisions. Maybe you should let him.”

She turned on her heel and walked away. Jaime met her halfway across the lawn.

“What did my father say to you?” he asked.

“Nothing important.”

“He was an asshole wasn’t he?”

“A little bit.”

Brienne’s frustration faded as Jaime dissolved into laughter. “You shouldn’t turn around but the look on his face is really priceless.”

“Describe it to me.”

“I’d say constipation mixed with recent discovery of an awful smell.”

“Sounds like his normal face.”

Jaime cracked up even more and it made her smile. He’d seemed so reserved all day, but this was the Jaime she knew. The Jaime she—

She grabbed his arm. “Hey.”

Jaime took a deep breath to calm himself and then looked at her. 

“I love you.”

His eyes widened and a grin broke out over his face. “That was fast.”

“What? I said I needed time to think.”

“I thought it would take at least a week. You’re much slower than me you know.”

“Excuse  _ me _ if I want to think before I speak.”

“Are you implying something?”

Brienne crossed her arms over her chest. “What do you think?”

Jaime kissed her, soft and brief. “I love you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i think chapter 15 will be the end but this might end up 16 chapters? totally unsure at this point haha. ive been writing good omens fic like a mad man


	15. Dancing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime and Brienne attend a wedding.

Jaime took Brienne’s hand from where it lay, picking at her dress. “You look great, you know.”

“You’re only saying that because you picked out the dress,” Brienne said with fond exasperation.

It was the same dress that Jaime had bought her for Valentine’s day and when he offered to buy her a new one she had argued (rather aggressively) that she hated wearing something only once and that the dress she already had was fine. He’d eventually let it go. 

And she did look great in that dress.

The legs.

The shoulders.

He licked his lips. 

Seemingly reading his thoughts, Brienne slapped at his knee. “Stop looking at me like you want to eat me. We’re at a wedding.”

Jaime smirked but came back to himself. He had thought the whole ex’s wedding thing would be at least ten times more dramatic than it had been. 

He had arrived with Brienne the night before, met up with Tyrion in the hotel bar and gotten delightfully smashed before making love to Brienne in their room well into the night.

“You know, I thought I’d be more nervous about this,” Jaime said, taking Brienne’s hand and lacing their fingers together. The murmur of the crowd as guests took their seats drowned out their voices so only they could hear each other.

“I’m glad you’re not,” Brienne said, squeezing his hand. “I don’t exactly do the emotional support thing.”

Jaime lifted her hand to kiss the back of it. “You being here is more than enough.”

Brienne smiled shyly and his heart gave that little pitter-patter in his chest. Music began and the crowd took their sets as a silence settled over them. The groom—Rhaegar, the smug bastard—came to his place at the altar looking every inch the happy husband-to-be. Jaime felt the urge to punch him. He was familiar with that urge. 

The bride appeared as the music swelled and it was the first time Jaime had seen Elia in years. She was still beautiful, big doe eyes and long black hair, but, despite his expectations, Jaime’s heart didn’t twist in his chest. He just felt sad. Maybe a little nostalgic. 

It made him smile.

The ceremony passed in a blur, the same boring vows Jaime was used to and his mind drifted to different images, a tall blonde woman at the altar, her hands in his, her crooked smile and watering eyes.

He coughed quietly.

The guests stood as the couple walked out, arm in arm, and then disbanded to their reception tables. Obviously, Rhaegar and Elia had not held back. The church had been resplendent with decorations and the reception, held outside under sprawling lights and oak trees, was no different.

Brienne and Jaime were seated at a table of five, including Tyrion and Margaery and Bronn who was apparently Margaery’s date. Honestly, Jaime had stopped being surprised when it came to Bronn.

“Well, that wasn’t too bad,” Bronn announced before downing his glass of champagne in one gulp. Margaery took a more demure sip.

“Nice and short,” Tyrion said. “More time for drinking.”

Jaime barked out a laugh. He supposed free booze was a decent reason for going to a wedding. Especially a wedding that one didn’t want to be at. 

Splitting several bottles of champagne between them, Jaime had a nice buzz going—though he was trying to avoid being truly drunk—and Brienne had that flush that belied her intoxication. The group was so full of laughter and joy that Jaime almost forgot where he was.

That was until Elia appeared at his elbow. “Jaime! I’m so glad you came.”

Jaime looked up at her and pasted a smile on his face. It was easier than he thought. “Congratulations,” he said as he stood up. He pressed a kiss to her cheek.

“Thank you,” she said with a blush and even though Jaime knew her well enough to know it was false modesty, he still admired her ability to fake emotions so well. She was even better than Cersei in that regard.

“This is my girlfriend, Brienne,” Jaime said, gesturing at Brienne who was still sat at the table pointedly looking at her plate.

Elia’s eyebrows went up but she stuck out her hand to shake Brienne’s. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m glad Jaime finally met someone.”

There was something in her tone that Jaime didn’t like but it wasn’t obvious enough for him to call her on it. Instead, he took Brienne’s hand and said, “Thanks for inviting us. We’ve had a lovely time.”

He turned back to the table and sat, hoping Elia would take it as the dismissal it was.

Margaery gave a low whistle. “I didn’t know you had the bitchy Lannister streak. I’m impressed.”

“Of course he does,” Bronn said. “He had to make his way in that family somehow.”

“You know, I thought that would go much worse,” Tyrion commented.

“Me too,” Brienne murmured.

“Well, it didn’t,” Jaime said firmly before standing. “Dance with me?”

Brienne looked up at him with her brilliant eyes, uncertain, but she nodded and put her hand in his.

He led her to the dancefloor and pulled her against him as a new song started up. “I am unbelievably glad you came with me.”

Brienne’s arms tightened around him. “I was worried, you know. That you’d see her and somehow realize that I wasn’t—I don’t know.”

“I like you. And seeing my ex wasn’t going to change that. Honestly, it just made me more thankful.”

Brienne pulled back and looked at him with glittering eyes, the fairy lights strung above them reflecting off them. “Really?”

“Really. You’re honest and strong and  _ you _ in a way that makes me want to be better.”

“I think you’re already pretty good,” Brienne said, a touch shyly. 

“High praise,” he said with a chuckle.

“If I compliment you too much, you might think I actually like you and we can’t have that.”

Jaime pulled back and gave her an expression of mock hurt and was delighted to see Brienne sticking her tongue out at him. 

He pulled her back against him and rested his chin on her shoulder, feeling happiness swell inside him. “Would you maybe want to move in with me? Not immediately if it’s too soon but in a few months?”

Brienne kissed his hair. “Is next week too soon?”

“Not soon enough.”

Brienne laughed and it echoed through his body. “Let’s consider it a compromise.”

He pulled away and pressed a soft kiss to her cheek. “Sounds like a plan.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wicked long delay. I realized i was putting off writing this because I was really attached and didn't want the story to be over. HOWEVER i finally got there and here it is and im so thankful for the folks who stuck with it in the aftermath of the horror of season 8.  
> Thanks for all the comments and kudos! The JB fandom is honestly one of the most supportive and kind i've ever been in and thanks for welcoming me with open arms :)


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